The Devil We Know
by gaarafreak
Summary: How was Christine Daae to know her recently deceased father was a mafia boss? After his death, she is thrust into the world of organized crime with only one person left that she can trust: a notorious hit man known as the Phantom.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

Author's Note: Yeah, I've read some of the Phantom of the Opera book, but mostly I'm running on the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical and the super fun movie version with Gerald Butler and girl-face as Christine (I don't even know her name…) I didn't know if someone had already written a story like this about them, so I went for it.

Disclaimer: Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Chapter One: It starts with death.**

Through her silent tears, Christine saw clearly the masses of people huddled around the cold, gray cemetery. Most had their heads were bowed respectfully. All of the attendees wore black suits in strict, clean fashions. The wealthiest wore heavy, expensive overcoats over their mourning attire.

Christine gulped back a sob that threatened to escape her. The repressed cry burnt in her throat, a pain that stuck fast. Her tears spilled noiseless down her face as she turned her head to see the rich, mahogany coffin next to her. A wreath of blood red roses leaned against the coffin and a simple portrait of her father sat on display.

The priest droned on about Heaven, God, and all things meant to comfort those still shackled to their Earthly bodies. She wasn't worried about her father's soul. If there was a Heaven, he was already there peering down at her tear streaked face with an apologetic smile on his face. That didn't make it any less painful to accept that she was truly alone in the world now.

Christine tried to focus on the priest's words, but they evaded her like gnats on a hot summer day. Sighing, she cast a doleful glance toward the overcast sky, but her eyes caught movement halfway and stopped.

A small hill stood overlooking the cemetery a short distance away from her father's grave. The hill was covered in dark green grass with a tall tree planted firmly in the ground reaching upwards with its orange, red, and yellow leaves. An expertly wrought, metal and wood bench rested under the tree. There was a lone man standing on that hill and he was staring straight back at her.

The intensity of the stranger's stare brought a fierce blush to her cheeks and nose. If her face was not already raw red from all the crying, others would have noticed. More than his stare, the bone white mask that concealed the right half of his face fascinated her and kept her attention from drifting.

Even at this distance, she could tell he had black hair trimmed neatly and styled back from his face. The visible half of his face was pale and handsome in a harsh sort of way. Maybe it was the set of his lips, that thin, slightly downward arch his mouth made while holding her gaze.

A touch on her shoulder made her jolt in place and whirl around. Her sudden action surprised the priest trying to gain her attention. "Miss Daae? Would you like to say a few words?"

Shocked that she had been caught daydreaming at her own father's funeral, Christine bowed her head and walked dutifully toward the podium. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced back to the hill only to find it empty and serene on the horizon.

The rest of the funeral was all a blur of sadness as her tears coursed fresh from her eyes when they lowered the coffin down into the ground. It was too final, a decisive period at the end of her father's sentence. There was no going back to the life she knew only months before.

The reception following the funeral was held in her father's large home, now hers. She waited in the living room next to the door, back straight as she greeted her guests and thanked them for their sympathetic remarks. As some of her guests began to drink themselves stupid, Christine noticed the sheer number of people present was absurd. It was standing room only throughout the large house.

_This isn't right. My father was always a shy, polite man. How would he know this many people? _Christine pondered, searching the faces of those nearest to her in hopes that she would catch a glimpse of someone she knew.

Everyone was a stranger. Suddenly, a man stumbled into her, knocking her off balance. His drink splashed onto her conservative, black dress and the stink of wine clung to the fabric immediately.

Sighing heavily, she stepped back to avoid being hit by the man's large, unruly hand motions. Soon she was pressed into the wall uncomfortably. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him to move, he laughed and elbowed a nearby friend.

"Well, Mister Daae was a good man, no one can deny that! Too good for his line of work. It's better this way, at least he died peacefully in his bed and not by a stray bullet from a hit man!" The man chuckled, obviously unable to gauge his own voice level.

Christine stiffened behind him as if he had reached out and slapped her hard across the face. "Sir."

But the man continued, his hearing and judgment impaired by alcohol, though he looked the type to normally voice his opinions regardless of who he was around. "Now, don't get me wrong! Loved that man like he was a father. Or somethin'. But you all heard the rumors same as the next person! There was a war brewing. He'd have lost his life soon enough anyway."

Christine's hands curled into fists as her face paled. What was this man talking about? What war? Her father was a simple man, though wealthy enough to take care of her. She never asked what he did for a living. Since he was gone so much, she assumed he was a businessman.

"Ever since his wife died, Daae lost the guts to rule-"

"SIR!" Christine repeated, interrupting the rude man's speech. He turned, looking at her as if surprised she was in her own home. "Whatever problems you had with my father, now is not the time to discuss them. Unless you show the proper respect, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Is this an order from the boss's little girl?" he asked in a half-mocking tone. Christine's mind went blank, unable to formulate a basic reply, let alone a biting come-back. He reached out and toyed with a strand of her long, curly brown hair as he murmured, "It's hard to respect an order from someone like you. Maybe if you provided some incentive?"

Christine could hardly believe her ears. He was so close she was breathing in the very air he expelled from his mouth. The stink of alcohol, sweat, and aftershave mingled together in a sickly sweet concoction that made her head reel.

Without warning, the front door swung open abruptly, sending the people congregating near it scattering to avoid being hit. In stepped the same man from earlier, his heavy, black trenchcoat whirling around his calves as he entered. It must have been the wind from outside that sent a chill down Christine's back as she watched the man stride toward them across the room.

"Buquet, you have horrible manners," the man's voice was smooth and deep despite his words. There was a lilt of amusement to his tone underneath the calm, as if he saw the humor in a dark situation no one else could.

People scooted back out of the man's path as he walked, the buzzing voices dying to silence in his presence. Christine's eyes widened as the imposing figure approached with a swift, deadly pace. Time slowed to a crawl as his black gloved hand darted out to wrap around her upper arm and twirl her into the safely of his coat. Her long hair and skirt flowed around her body to the movement and she had to press her hands to his chest to steady herself.

Then he raised his other arm straight and confidently shot Buquet between the eyes with a 9 millimeter, semi-automatic pistol. Wedged securely beneath his arm, Christine could only think of how quiet the gunshot was. She always assumed they were louder. Also, all that red would be hell to get off her carpet and wall.

"PHANTOM!" Someone shrieked at the top of their lungs. Chaos exploded as the guests all ran for the front door, screaming and tripping over their feet. The man holding her between his arm and side laughed maniacally while replacing his sleek, black metal pistol back into his holster strapped to his back under his trench coat.

The only ones left in the house were Christine, this masked maniac, Buquet's dead body bleeding all over her poor carpet, and someone who had been injured during the stampede. The masked man placed a gentle hand on her head before extracting her from the safety of his arm. He walked over to where the man who had tripped was crawling toward the front door. He reached down and caught the squirming man by his suit collar without slowing his step, dragging him to the front door.

"Aren't mass suicide attempts just the worst?" the masked man asked the poor person he was pulling to the door. By the light tone of his voice, it would be hard to tell he'd just killed a man. "Out you go. Don't come back or I'll kill you."

He tossed the man with the twisted ankle out on the lawn before turning on his heel to reenter the house. The front door slammed shut inches in front of his face. Sighing, he knocked once. The lock clicked shut in reply. He knocked again, louder. "Miss Daae? Is there a reason you locked me outside?"

"G-go away!" Christine stammered from inside, her back pressed against the wood of the door. "I'm calling the police!"

"Miss Daae…" his voice sounded tired and clipped. He gestured with his hands as if to shoo something away. "Fine, go get the phone to call the police. Hurry, I might do something crazy again."

Christine glared at the door, irritated by this insane man ordering her around, before dashing into the kitchen to grab the wireless phone. She ran back to the door with the phone only to find it swinging open harmlessly. Standing next to the door was the same masked man, holstering his gun on his back again. "Funny thing about locks. They lose to guns."

Christine's jaw dropped open in shock. "You SHOT my door?"

His visible, left eyebrow rose on his forehead at her words. "Yes. I also shot that man over there. But you knew that."

Her face flushed red as her eyes narrowed on him. His gaze fell to the object in her hand. "Oh. The phone. Excellent. I was looking for one."

As he reached out to take the phone from her, she jumped back. He remained leaning slightly forward with his hand open as if waiting for her to relinquish the phone. She ran for the front door. Moving with a grace and speed that caught her off guard, the man stepped directly into her path, blocking her escape. She jerked to a halt a foot away from him as he peered down at her through dark, glittering eyes.

Desperate, she lunged to the left, trying to get around him. He took one step to the side, blocking her easily. He cocked his head to the side as if to question her with his expression. Growing irritated, she feinted to the right, running left instead, but he reached his arms out and blocked both ways easily. That annoying, condescending look of questioning was still on his face.

A choked cry of rage erupted from her clenched teeth as she stepped back out of reach and hurled the phone at his head. Surprised, he dodged the airborne phone as it sailed an inch away from his skull. He gave her a harassed look as he turned to face her after watching the phone smash against the walkway outside. He grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a small shake. "Don't throw things at people with guns! You will just upset them. Did you not just see me kill a man?"

Christine flinched at the harsh tone and the whipping movement. The man dropped his hands, exhaling loudly. "Right. Remember that next time. Go get your things."

Christine remained motionless in place, confused and scared of the man in black who was now eyeing the abused door, hand on his chin in thought. He tried to shut the door, but it just swung slowly back open, the latch and doorknob shot all to hell. Sighing, he shook his head, caught a glimpse of Christine out of the corner of his eyes and frowned at her. "What? Your things! Now! Or would you rather stay here and explain yourself to the police? I'm sure someone from your mourning party has already called them."

Christine squinted up at him, disorientated by the turn of events. "Why would I want to go with YOU?"

"BECAUSE," he replied, his tone sharp and grating. "Since the death of your father, you are left without any protection against a world full of wolves and cutthroats. Though the police are the least of your problems, no doubt someone will seek to harm you in the immediate future."

At her lost, innocent expression, his tone softened slightly. "Your parents had many enemies."

"Who was my father? I thought I knew him. And who are you?" she demanded weakly.

"Too late for packing. We'll have to get you some clothes to change into later." The man looked toward the front door sharply and a distant siren broke through the silence outside. He shook his head once, grabbing her by the forearm and tugging her along behind him as he walked out the door. Parked in her driveway was an old fashioned, 1939 Buick Roadmaster, tuned and painted to look as new as the day it was purchased.

He unlocked the passenger door and held the door open for her to slide in. She stared at him as if he were insane. The sirens grew louder. Nearer. Despite the pressure, he sent her a calm, knowing smile as he leaned close to whisper into her ear, "I have your answers, little one. Your father trusted me."

Shocked at the rush of self-awareness she felt standing so close to him, Christine gasped and stepped back. She tried to hide her awkward movement by hastily climbing into the car. Shutting the door firmly, he strode around to the other side and slid into the driver's seat. As she fumbled with the old fashioned seatbelt, he put the key in the ignition and the car roared to life under his hands.

He ran his gloved hand along the dash lovingly before backing out of the drive way and speeding down the road. Christine watched him curiously for a moment, the way his grip gentled on touching the wheel. The way he held his gun was stronger, a firm hold, decisive. Which reminded her: "Why didn't I hear you shoot the door?"

Eyeing her sidelong, he shook his head. "You have so much to learn. You don't even have a basic knowledge of firearms."

"Well, sorry," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms. "We can't all be crazy masked men."

This comment caught him by surprise, he sat up straighter in his seat, the tension in his shoulders obvious. "Do **not** call me that."

"What should I call you?"

"Erik."

"Fine, Erik. I'm Christine. How did you know my father? And what's going on?"

A lopsided smile fought his control, trying to spread across his lips. She was eager, curious, and full of questions. Good. Because she had a lot to learn if she wanted to survive in the world her father and mother had thrust her into. "Soon enough, Miss Daae. Once I have you safe from those who wish to harm you, I will answer you questions. Is that fair to you?"

Her only reply was to turn away from him slightly and prop her elbow up on the window frame of the door. She stared out at the city scenery whooshing passed them, an impatient look on her face. Erik sighed and forced his attention back to the road, trying to ignore the pouting expression Christine cast his way every few minutes.

It was gonna be a long drive to The Opera House.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Ah… I didn't mention that this is set in modern America? Well, there it is. Sorry for the confusion.

PS- I love semi-automatic pistols… Erik's is a Glock 17, 9 MM black pistol with a silencer equipped that he made himself. That's why Christine couldn't hear the shot from the kitchen. Another option, apparently, is to hold a pistol behind a pillow and fire that way. Insta-silencer!

**Chapter Two: Beneath the Opera House**

The Opera House was an immense, brick building situated between the theater district and residential area of downtown. Its name was slightly deceiving, as it was a fine, upscale restaurant that provided its patrons with singing and short plays on its modest stage in the dining area.

Erik bypassed the parking lot, circling around the building to a small, dark space in the shadows behind the restaurant. He parked the car, removed the keys and swiftly got out. Christine hurried to follow, but before she could open her door, he was there holding it open with his hand out politely. She placed her hand on his, the slick, black material of his gloves and odd substitute for flesh.

He had her standing in an instant, her arm looped pleasantly around his crooked elbow as if he were her date escorting her to a play. They started toward the front of the building, before taking a sharp turn down an outside stairway leaning into the building's basement. Christine followed him hesitantly, their arms still locked together. "Shouldn't we go in through the front?"

"No. There are plenty of patrons up in the dining area who shouldn't know you're under my care." Fishing around in his pant's pockets, Erik produced a ring of keys and flicked through a few until he found the one he wanted and unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs. He threw open the door and walked in, letting her arm go as he did. She entered slowly, shutting the door behind her.

The basement had been converted into a one room studio apartment. The walls were made of cement and stone built from the foundations of the building and the floor was cold stone with various rugs scattered around for padding. An antique, wood desk sat near one wall with a black leather office chair that swiveled on wheels with a back that would make any villain envious.

A single person bed was opposite the room from the desk hidden behind a large, foldable rice paper screen. There were no windows in the room and the only source of light was a standing lamp near the desk and cabinet area. Shadows from the stone texture fell across the walls, making the room haggard and pockmarked.

Erik jerked loose the dark red tie around his neck as he walked straight to the desk where a small pile of paper waited. Without looking up, he commanded, "Lock the door then come sit."

Christine made a face while she clicked the lock into place before hurrying over to the smaller chair on the other side of the side for company. Before she could sit, he held out an envelope for her. She took it and stared at the name written in a familiar hand on the cream colored envelope. Christine, written with that absurdly curly C. Her father's writing.

Glancing up sharply, she glared at Erik. "Where did you get this?"

Erik shrugged as he removed his overcoat to drape over the tall back of his chair. "Your father. I assure you, I haven't read it. Tampering with mail is too petty a crime for me."

She opened the envelope carefully, wanting to savor the feeling of nearness to her father the letter provided. It was as though he had just written it and was still alive for her to send a reply. It took all her courage not to start crying again as she unfolded the clean white paper and began to read.

_My little Christine,_

_If you are reading this, then I've probably been murdered. Erik wouldn't have sought you out if he didn't believe there to be a real danger to your life. I was most likely killed by a rival leader. Times are changing too fast in this world and I'm too tired to keep up. In this underworld, Christine, if you show weakness you're as good as dead._

_Your mother and I hoped to keep you from this way of life. We planned to tell you eventually, but once Elizabeth was killed, I vowed never to give you the chance to follow in our footsteps. The things we've done, little Christine… you would surely hate the both of us if you knew. And you must know now, you must know everyone for who they truly are. Erik will help as much as possible with whichever path you choose to take._

_Be true to yourself, little bird._

_Love,_

_Your Father_

Just as Christine finished reading the letter, a gloved hand thrust a slip of cloth at her. She glanced up in confusion and saw Erik's taut, pained expression peering down at her as he offered her a handkerchief. She took the cloth and realized she must be crying again. Folding the letter back into the envelope, Christine wiped at her eyes, trying to keep the sobs from forming in her mouth.

"I don't know what he said in that letter, but your father was a good man. The best in this line of work. He never killed anyone who didn't deserve it." Erik stated, voice gruff as he sat on the edge of the desk in front of her.

Choking on a sudden laugh, Christine continued to blot her eyes as she asked, "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"I couldn't say, I've never tried to make anyone stop crying before. In fact, I'm usually doing the opposite."

Shaking her head, Christine looked up at him and jolted in her seat. His shirt was partially unbuttoned and the bottom was pulled free from the waist of his pants. The vest he wore was open, completely unbuttoned, and his tie hung uneven from his now upturned collar. The state of undress showed a generous amount of his neck and collarbone, but something was wrong.

"You're still wearing your mask and gloves," she squinted up at his exposed skin. Trailing the right side of his neck, skin looked warped and scarred as if horribly burned. The veins and tendons twisted just beneath the irritated, red skin. Leaping up from her chair, she advanced on him, her hands flying to his face to angle his head so she could look at the skin on his neck. "You're hurt! Who did this?!"

He was so shocked by her sudden movement that he barely managed to skitter backward on the desktop before she could knock the mask off his face. He fell over the other side of the desk in his frantic attempt to escape from her hands.

Christine watched him tumble back and disappear behind the desk. "Erik, are you okay?"

She started forward, but halted when Erik ordered, "STOP! Don't come over here!"

There was the sound of hands pawing along the cold floor in search of something and then he sighed in relief. A moment later, he stood up, mask in a slightly different position on his face. "Did your mask fall off?"

He narrowed on her as he fiddled with his collar, trying to hide the marred few inches of skin on the right side of his neck. "Yes, no thanks to you. I'm lucky I didn't land on my gun and blow my ass off."

"I'm sorry, I just… the skin on your neck… I thought you were hurt." She offered lamely, backing up until the chair nudged into her calf.

"I'm not hurt, so don't touch me." He snapped, removing the gun holster from around his torso and placing it on the desk. "What did your father have to say?"

"Oh," Christine had almost forgotten the letter in the rush. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do. He said that he was murdered by a rival leader."

Erik nodded, sitting in his chair behind the desk, grateful for the distance between them. That was the first time a woman so boldly touched him. In the circles he frequented, the women and men were all afraid of him. "Sounds about right. I have some ideas on that, but I'll have to investigate further before I know anything for sure."

"Did you work under my father?"

"I don't work for anyone," he replied quickly. His shoulders were tense again, Christine noted with curiosity. Why would such a simple question raise his hackles? A slow, sadistic smile curled the left half of his lips. "In fact, even the leaders of the mafia know not to bother me."

"Then why are you helping me?"

He eyed her for a long moment, tapping his fingers against the wood of the desk. "Because I owed your mother a great deal of favors before she died. That debt switched to your father upon her death and now it goes to you. I believe in returning what is owed, by any means necessary."

At her puzzled expression, he sighed, eyes drifting to a spot on the wall. "I forget how young you were when Elizabeth died. Your memory of her must be faded. She was… a strong woman, capable of anything. Her beauty was whispered about by all in this field."

"Did you love her?" Christine asked, taken back by the airy tone in his voice.

His gaze returned to her face, sharply. The nostalgic tone was gone, he was all seriousness again. He spoke as if he had something to prove. "No. I admired her spirit. She was capable of balancing kindness and strength in a world that only values power. However, I believe you might surpass her."

"Wait, what?" Christine demanded, leaning forward in her seat. "Surpass her?"

"If you want, I can teach you how to thrive in this dark, underworld your parents lived in." He paused. "Or I can try to arrange a safe house for you to hide from the truth of your parent's lives. Those are your options."

He turned his attention to the gun in the holster in front of him. He removed the gun and took out a small kit, lovingly taking apart the gun and placing the pieces in order on a cloth. He was apparently done talking to her for awhile, she crossed her arms huffily as she grumbled, "So, now what?"

Erik continued to clean the bits of metal without pause. "You'll stay here for tonight. Tomorrow, we go to meet an old friend of your mother, Madame Giry. She'll help with your introduction into our pleasant society, if you so choose."

"Won't the police come looking for you once someone describes Buquet's murderer? There were plenty of witnesses at the reception." She stated. He sent her a blank look, so she sighed and explained, "How many men run around the city in half masks toting guns? I know I can only think of one at the moment."

Erik smirked, enjoying the scenario in his mind for a moment before shaking his head. "You don't know of my reputation among the other criminals. Needless to say, no one will identify me to the police."

Christine shivered in her seat as the sadistic smirk gradually died from his lips. "They called you a phantom."

"People come up with names for those they fear. It's flattering, really. They obviously fear me more than they fear sounding like idiots, yelling names like Phantom and Angel of death." He eyed her for a second before turning his attention back to his gun. "Maybe you'll get your own little codename one day if you break enough skulls."

The idea of being able to walk into a room and kill a man without batting an eye made Christine's stomach flip. She swallowed back her disgust and slumped in her seat a little. "I'll pass."

Standing up to stretch, she surveyed the room. The bed was tiny. She would be surprised if his feet didn't hang over the edge while he slept. A beat up, two person couch was located in the corner perpendicular to the office wall. Christine addressed him over her shoulder. "So, where do I sleep? You only have one bed and that God awful sofa. Where did you find that anyway? A curb-side pickup."

Rolling his eyes, Erik mimicked her under his breath so that she couldn't hear, before stating, "I'm sure we can come up with some sort of arrangement. Perhaps we could share the bed."

His tone was a strange mix of amusement and seriousness that made Christine pause mid-step and spin around to face him. He was standing, having left his precious gun in pieces on the desk, and was gazing at her with a look of longing that surprised her. He treated her like a spoiled child, and yet, there were times when his expressions made her skin tingle instantly.

She reacted to him without a word or touch.

Crossing her arms over her chest, her skin flecked with goosebumps, Christine shuddered. Her reaction to him brought him to his sense and he abruptly cut across the room to grab a pillow and extra blanket.

He tossed the items on to the couch with added force. "I'll be sleeping on the couch like a damned gentleman."

Irritated at how easily he caved under the pressure of her large, brown eyes, Erik gestured her toward the bed with a mock bow. "It's all yours, Princess. I do hope it is to your liking."

Without rising from his bow, Erik waited as Christine stomped passed him toward the bed. She paused for a moment near him to brush a hand along his left cheek. "Thank you. I don't mean to impose."

Great, he thought as he straightened from his waist bow. Now he felt like an ass. Christine did not turn back around as she disappeared behind the thin, paper curtain.

Rubbing his fingers against the furrow between his brow, Erik glanced back to the pieces of the gun that waited eagerly for him. Sighing, he dutifully returned to his chair and quickly finished reassembling the weapon. That woman took the fun out of everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Christine's mom's name is Elizabeth in my story. I honestly don't know what it was in the book or even if she had a name. My good pal and fellow POTO fan, Sara, insists Christine's mom didn't have one. But Gustav was her father's name. So we'll go with Elizabeth and Gustav Daae. Onward and thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter Three: Balance**

Christine woke with a painful ache throbbing in her skull. Her neck creaked from the stiff, flat pillow and the angle she had slept on it. A wheezing snore filled the room with its soft, irritating sound. She cringed as she sat up on the squeaky bed and peered across the room at the lumpy couch.

Sprawled out on his back, Erik slept with his head tilted back and his legs dangling off the armrest at his knees. His bone white mask was still pressed firmly over the right half of his face, obscuring his breathing and producing the annoying whistle. Christine padded passed him, trying not to wake him up. Halfway to the stairs leading up into to the main part of the restaurant, Erik groaned loudly and sat up, looking around groggily.

"Wha?" he squinted at her blurrily. When she didn't respond, he flopped back down on the couch and continued to snore. She took the chance to ascend the stairs and enter the brightly lit restaurant.

The hardwood floor of the restaurant clacked under her inch tall heels as she paused to shut the door to the basement behind her. She turned around to find everyone in the immediate vicinity staring at her with wide-eyed expressions. A spoon clattered in the silence as someone dropped their utensils.

Flushed, Christine tried to smooth down her unruly, sleep mussed hair to no avail. No doubt her black dress was wrinkled from tossing and turning all night. She gathered her courage and approached a slack-jawed waiter who was gawking at her as if she were an alien. "Excuse me, may I eat here?"

It took a whole ten seconds for the question to register in the young man's mind before he nodded hastily and gestured toward a nearby table. She smiled hesitantly and sat down. "I-I'll go g-get something from the ki-kitchen right away!"

Christine watched him run away, confused. She cupped her hand to her mouth and sniffed her breath. Well, she didn't smell. And she wasn't ugly or covered in dirt. Why was everyone staring at her?

While she was pondering this, someone approached from the kitchen, a large, pleasant smile on his face, his hand out as if to embrace her. She eyed him warily, but returned the smile. "My dear! I am Andre, the owner of this humble establishment. I would like to extend my heartiest greetings to the lady friend of the Phantom! Please, what would you like to eat? Anything! It's on the house."

Oh. They thought she was sleeping with Erik. She opened her mouth to explain, but then thought better of it. Her stomach growled angrily. She WAS hungry. "I don't know what to order. The waiter forgot to give me a menu."

"Consider him fired." Andre snapped his fingers and a different waiter appeared, brandishing a menu for her to peruse. She nodded happily and flipped through the pages briefly while he waited patiently for her order.

"I would like-"

Before she could get any further, the door leading down to the basement slammed open and Erik stomped up the steps into the dining area. His shirt was still unbuttoned at the collar and untucked. His feet were bare as he had forgotten to put on his shoes in his haste. In one gloved hand he gripped his pistol, but he kept it down at his side as he scanned the room. His eyes found Christine easily and he strode across the room with barely leashed anger in each step.

Christine got to her feet immediately, tossing the menu to the table just as Erik neared and grabbed her roughly by the arm. Without a word to the flattering Andre, Erik dragged her back down into the basement and slammed the door behind him. It clicked locked.

"You fool!" He spat, whirling around to face her once the door was secured. "I told you the only people who patron that restaurant are Mafioso! They want you dead!"

"I was hungry!" she countered, crossing her arms around her stomach defensively.

Erik let out a ragged breath as he pressed the knuckles of his hand against his left temple. "Now Andre and all those other imbeciles know that we are connected. What's worse, look at you! Look at your clothes. They'll think I've-"

"Slept with me?" she offered when he sputtered haltingly to find an appropriate term.

"Like a whore!" he finished, exasperated. His chest heaved from the tirade, eyes wild and black hair falling over his forehead.

"You don't have to be a whore to have sex with someone," Christine laughed lightly. "Haven't you ever loved anyone, Erik?"

Erik stared at her in disbelief for a few moments before throwing his arms in the air, gun still in his hand. "I am not having this conversation with you! Do you even know what time it is? I'm going back to sleep- you better not leave this room again."

The menace in his voice would have been more effective if Christine wasn't still grinning from his rant. When he plopped back onto the couch and placed the gun on the ground within arm's reach, Christine informed him, "I'm still hungry."

"We'll eat before we go to Madame Giry's in a few hours."

She watched him squeeze his eyes shut and try to will himself asleep. "I'm bored."

"I swear to-" He sat up again. "If you don't go back to sleep, I'll take the bed and then you'll have to sleep on this couch!"

Tsking, Christine made her way back to the bed, not wanting to give it up even if she wasn't tired. "Fine."

"Good." Erik repeated, dropping back down against the armrest. Now that his blood was boiling, it would be difficult going back to sleep. Frustrated beyond belief, he buried his masked face into the pillow and growled furiously. He was beginning to wish that he'd just left her at her house.

There were many bad points about Christine not fearing him like the others in organized crime, Erik pondered as he drove them toward Madame Giry's nightclub around noon. Fear made a quick and easy substitute for respect in many cases and since she neither feared nor respected him yet, he found himself in unsure territory.

For example, during their brief meal at a small diner after leaving The Opera House, he had warned her that they couldn't stay long. So what did she do? She changed her order THREE times, each time waiting until the meal was fully cooked and in front of her before realizing it wasn't what she wanted. On the third time, he smiled at Christine across the table and demanded, "Are you hungry?"

Christine looked shocked that he would doubt her. "Of course! I'm famished! Remember, **someone** wouldn't let me eat this morning."

"Then eat what is on that plate or we'll leave right now."

He hated having to act like a father to her, but if she insisted upon her role as a spoiled brat, he supposed he could shape her into a responsible woman. Or at least a slightly less annoying one.

They were currently speeding toward the area of downtown littered with various clubs and bars. Christine was huddled as far away as possible, still irritated at him for his tyrannical rule over her breakfast. He sighed and motioned to her. "Come here."

She eyed him wearily, but scooted closer. He reached out with his right hand and gently ran it over and through her hair. "You like to test me, Christine. You are very stubborn, I know, but you have to understand that I tell you these things because I'm worried about your safety."

Christine sat in place, bewildered by his show of affection. "You're petting me. Is this normally how you show girls you care for them?"

Erik's hand froze halfway through a third stroke on her hair. He dropped his hand immediately and turned his attention to the road. She pressed on, undaunted. "You don't care what happens to me. Your only reason for doing this is to feel better about my mother's death. But she's been dead a long time, Erik. Watching over me won't help that."

The steering wheel creaked under the force of his grip and his jaw muscles clenched as he stared blankly out the window. "Open the glove compartment."

She shot him a bored look. "Why? Does it explode when opened?"

"Just open it," he replied. Christine reached out and clicked it open. There was a smaller handgun and some insurance papers for the car. Nestled down at the bottom of the compartment was a 4X5 inch photograph slightly scratched with age.

She'd seen copies of this picture before in the family album. Her mother was leaning down to hold a toddler aged version of Christine up by her hands as she practiced walking. They wore matching dresses made of ruffled, white material embroidered with pink roses.

Written on the back of the photo in black pen were the words, "Erik- little Christine misses her angel, so visit again soon! Love, Elizabeth and Gustav Daae."

After a moment of gawking at the picture, Christine turned to stare at him. "How old ARE you?"

He laughed once, a hoarse sound. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I'm just wondering. You couldn't have been very old when you first got into this whole… mafia business." She paused and held up the dated photo. "I was about one and a half when this was taken. How old were you?"

"Almost twenty." He replied, parking the car as they arrived at a three story building with a large sign shaped like a martini glass with the word's "Madame Giry's" scrawled across it. He glanced over at her to find her still staring at him in shock, and pried the picture out of her hands before placing it back into the glove compartment. "Don't look so traumatized. You're the same age now as I was then."

He got out of the car and started toward the front of the building, leaving her scrambling to catch up. She breathed in awe as she ran after him. "You're so OLD! What are you, 40 now?"

"More like 38. Are we done talking about this?" He asked, waiting with his hand on the door. She nodded, though the dazed expression was still on her face when he pushed the door open and entered the nightclub. They stood in the waiting area and Christine noticed Erik was squeezing his hands into fists. "I hate this part."

Almost on cue, a feminine cry of surprise resonated throughout the empty bar. "It's Erik! Madame Giry, Erik is here!"

Four women appeared from various parts of the bar and immediately fawned over Erik, who shied away from their hands. One of them, a cute blonde woman, latched onto his arm and purred, "Erik, you've been away so long. I was starting to think you only came here when you wanted something."

Erik's face paled even more as he tried to evade the women. He looked as if it was physically draining to be around these admiring young ladies. Finally he asked in a strangled voice, "Where is the Madame?"

An elegant, older woman entered from a back room, her face scowling serious as she snapped, "Meg! Girls! Go back to what you were doing and leave poor Erik alone."

Meg, the young blond woman, detached from Erik's arm and left with a pout. Once they were the only ones left, Erik let out a quiet breath. He gestured to Christine, who was standing with her hands on her hips a few feet away, having been pushed aside by the women in their haste to get to Erik. "This is Miss Christine Daae."

Madame Giry focused her sharp, intelligent stare on Christine, appraising her instantly. "Elizabeth's child. Yes, I've heard about you. You're all my patrons want to talk about these days."

Erik glared at her. "Who?"

Madame Giry smiled secretively. "Now, now, Erik. No need to get protective. Most of it is idle banter from old men who just want something new to play with."

"I'd rather not be the plaything of old men." Christine stated, sending an amused glance in Erik's direction. He frowned. Madame Giry laughed, motioning them toward her office in the back.

"You picked up your mother's ability to torture Erik, I see. He doesn't allow many people that privilege." Madame said as they were ushered into the small office and shut the door behind them. "So, what can I do for you two?"

"Christine wants to learn more about her parents and the world they ruled. There is no better place to overhear gossip and become immersed in the culture of our society than Madame Giry's."

"You flatter me, but is that truly what you want?" Giry turned her attention to Christine directly. "You haven't said more than a handful of words since you arrived. I won't agree to this absurd plan unless you're the one who wants it."

Christine pondered her words for a moment. If she stayed here, no doubt she would learn more than she ever wanted to know about the lives of her parents outside of her loving home. She would be forced to face the truth, no matter how much it hurt her or left her disillusioned with the people she loved.

Madame Giry continued, seeing Christine's confusion. "It will be dangerous if you're not careful, manipulative, and smart. The girls here have been working in this field since they were young, so they know exactly what they can get away with and what is taboo. For the most part, this will be a culture shock for you."

"You forget to tell her," Erik spoke up from the other side of the room. "The powerful men in the mafia have a glaring weakness that I plan to have you exploit. It will be easy for you to take full advantage of their blindness."

"What weakness is that?" Christine asked, surprised.

"It's simple, really. The men of the underworld underestimate the intelligence and strength of their women. They let their guard down and spill secrets in front of prostitutes and barmaids, thinking they're as safe as babies in a womb. But these women are not their mothers." Erik stated in a hard tone, eyes glinting in excitement. "Elizabeth wielded this knowledge more efficiently than any weapon."

Madame Giry nodded. "Your mother was a dangerous woman to have as an enemy. You can learn the same skills here."

"Just what kind of place is this?" Christine breathed in wonder.

Madame Giry smiled, knowing that Christine was too curious and bright to do anything but accept their proposal. "A simple nightclub, love. My staff is all female and many of them prostitute themselves to the patrons for information and favors. Do not worry, that is their personal choice, not an act forced upon them."

"You won't be doing that." Erik added hastily. Giry turned sly eyes on him with a knowing smile. He caught her expression and scowled. "No. She won't be selling herself."

"Erik has a problem with prostitution." Madame Giry explained to Christine with an apologetic tone. "Besides, it's not as though he hasn't made use of our informants on occasion."

"Erik has a problem with being spoken about like he's not in the room." He corrected, angrily. "And no, Giry. If I hear you've let her-"

"Calm down," Christine interjected, cutting the rest of his spiel short. "I'm not going that far. I'm nowhere near ready for something like that."

"Which reminds me," he commented. "I'm going to be teaching you about weapons and self-defense during the day when the club is closed. Your father obviously thought you above such violence, but I won't be satisfied until you can take care of yourself."

"Why? I have you to take care of that stuff, right?"

He stared at her with an expression caught between delight and disbelief. "If something happens to me, I won't leave you defenseless like your father did. Being too dependent on anyone leads to disaster, you've already seen that for yourself."

Christine stiffened at his words. It hurt when someone spoke negatively about her father, especially when that someone was Erik. She was already starting to trust his instincts and advice. "Fine. I can handle that."

He nodded, turning to Giry. "I have work to do. Take care of her for now."

Madame Giry bowed her head. "Christine, please see Erik out."

"Why? He knows where the door is."

Giry caught her by the arm and gave her a little push. "Do as I say. You must learn to obey me if you plan to live long in this field."

Sighing heavily, Christine took Erik's offered arm and they left the office, walking toward the front door of the bar. She peered at him out of the corner of her eyes. "So. I see you're popular with the ladies here. Must get plenty of action."

"Is it always about sex with you?" he rolled his eyes, noticing that several women were sending him suggestive looks. "Maybe it's not just you."

"How many of them have you slept with?" Christine asked, grinning at him. His visible eyebrow rose up on his forehead as he quickly looked at the ground. Her eyes widened. "Wait, are you-?"

They reached the entrance and Erik slipped her hand out of his arm. "I'm going to be late for a meeting."

"Don't change the subject. Have you had sex?"

"No." He stated simply, trying to make for the door. She grabbed his coat sleeve and held on, making him halt halfway out the building.

"Forget that for a second. Have you even let anyone see your face without the mask on?"

"Look," he sighed in a harassed voice. "I really do have to go. I have to meet with an informant regarding a suspect in your father's murder. If I'm late, the man might be compromised. Are my sexual escapades, or lack thereof, worth a man's life?"

Christine quickly dropped her hand from his sleeve. "Sorry. Will you be back soon?"

Surprised, he noticed the uneasiness in the way she wrung her hands, the slight slump of her shoulders. Reaching out, he brushed her curly hair out of her eyes and smiled down at her faintly. "Don't worry about me. Just go listen to the Madame, you have plenty to learn before the club opens tonight."

Christine nodded and watched him cross the parking lot toward his old fashioned car. Exhaling a breath she didn't remember holding, she gazed after the car as it receded into the distant sprawl of skyscrapers and cement walkways. A pair of slender, pink arms slipped around her shoulders and a weight leaned against her from behind. "Missing him already, little bird?"

Startled, Christine whirled around just as the other girl dropped her arms and stepped back, giggling. It was the blonde woman in the simple, blue dress that Madame Giry called Meg. "What? No. Of course not. Why? Do I look sad?"

"It's always sad when Erik leaves. Too bad we couldn't get him to sing something this time. That man has the voice of an angel." Meg sighed longingly before smiling brightly again. "Well, let's get you changed into something fresher. That looks like something you wore two days in a row."

"Now remember," Meg ordered in warning as she cast a backward glance at Christine, who was following behind her warily. "Confidence is most important. If you can fake that, then try for the shy, innocent girl act. Well, you probably won't have to pretend with that one, but just don't let the customer get the upper hand. You're in control here. If things get too rough, I'll try to stay nearby."

"Okay," Christine managed though her throat was dry from nervousness. Half of her uneasiness came from having to wear a form-fitting, dark red dress cut lower on her chest than anything else she'd worn in her life. One of the women wore the same bra size and let her borrow a clean push-up bra, forcing an ample amount of cleavage to fill the void left by the dress. A layer of black, mesh material peeked out from beneath the knee length red skirt. As a rule, none of the women working at Madame Giry's wore nylons over their underwear.

The sun was setting outside the windows in the main club area as they descended the stairs the led upstairs to the women's living quarters. Most of the workers at Madame Giry's shared rooms on the second floor and the third floor served as Madame Giry's condo.

The ground level was already hopping with activity as more men in dark suits entered through the front door. Women in short, attractive dresses immediately flocked to the customers, asking to take their coats and showing them to the bar area. The men receiving such attention walked with a strut that was so absurd Christine almost giggled.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Madame Giry swooped in to take her by the elbow gently, leaving Meg free to attend to the ever increasing number of men entering the club. Loud, hypnotic music thumped in the background, smoke hung heavy in the air near the ceiling imitating clouds, and the deep thrill of energy surrounded her from all sides.

Christine stood straighter, her long, curly brown hair sweeping back behind her as she walked with a confidence she had never known before. This place swam in her blood, she knew it like her own heartbeat. She could do this.

Madame Giry led her toward a young man in a dark blue suit standing with his back toward them at the bar. He had shoulder length, straight blond hair pulled back into a fashionable, low ponytail at the base of his neck and she could see a few earrings in his ears from behind. Before they could reach him, Giry leaned close to murmur into Christine's ear, "I've already watched this one, he's a softie. You won't have any problems being the aggressor."

Christine felt a gentle push as Giry propelled her toward the man. Unprepared for the sudden moment, she stumbled over her heels and had to grab the man's back to keep from falling. Surprised, he glanced over his shoulder and she was met with the most beautiful pair of bright blue eyes she'd ever seen on a man. Something tugged at her mind, a warm memory of childhood. He seemed just as shocked by her presence as she did by his. "Christine?"

"Raoul!" she breathed, overwhelmed by the surge of happiness that flooded her upon hearing his voice. She wasn't alone in this world after all. "I haven't seen you in years."

For the most part, his face was a mirror of her own happy expression, but he quickly glanced around the room before pressing a finger to his own lips to warn her. He leaned in and whispered, "Little Miss Daae, would you like to go up to your room to talk?"

While he spoke, his finely manicured hand trailed from her wrist to her forearm, drawing sweet circles on her sensitive skin. She reacted to his touch, but her mind drifted to the voice she yearned to hear… that seductive, smooth growl belonging to Erik only. Shaking her mind awake, she blushed fiery red and nodded excitedly. "Yes, we must talk. But only talk, nothing else."

"You wound me," he grinned at her, a boyish expression that spread to her infectiously. He reached out to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her steadily toward the stairs. "What are you doing here, Christine? Don't tell me you've hit on hard times?"

Christine shook her head, speaking quietly in reply, "No, I'm fine. My father died a few weeks ago. So much has changed since I last saw you, Raoul. You're all grown up now, last I knew you were a gangly little boy running around showing off for all the little girls in school."

"What did you expect? We were only eleven years old! Of course I was just an awkward, little boy! But you," he smiled as the turned at the top of the stairs and made for the room she shared with Meg. "You were always so beautiful. Like a fragile porcelain doll. The boys were always afraid to play with you, in case you got hurt."

Her cheek burned at the compliment as she opened the door and let him in. She hadn't smiled this hard in a long time and her face ached with the exercise already. "Why are you here, Raoul? Are you here for the company?"

Now was his turn to flush crimson. He stumbled over his words, such a cute expression on his face as he tried to justify his coming to a nightclub full of prostitutes and criminals. "My father got a promotion, which is why we moved away so suddenly. He's now the chief of police here. I'm undercover."

A stab of ice cold fear cut through her stomach as he said this. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm not sure I should say…" he worried a loud, but when she gave him an exasperated, quirked eyebrow look he caved with an embarrassed smile. "I keep forgetting, you're an old friend. I have nothing to fear from my sweet Christine."

A small voice in her head triumphed at this tiny success, but her heart sank at his praise. He explained, "I have reason to believe that a notorious criminal frequents the downtown area. We don't know much about him, just that he is called the Phantom, among other things. The witnesses don't live long enough to tell us more than that."

Christine's knees wobbled unsteadily, but she took a deep breath and composed herself before Raoul could see how badly his words had impacted her. She crossed the room to sit on her bed. He plopped down next to her. "But what about you? I'm worried now that you're here. I mean, what if someone finds out we're connected? It could put you in serious danger."

She almost laughed at that statement. To risk a cliché, danger was becoming her middle name. "Don't worry, I'm safe here. The other girls look out for me. I'm like a little sister to them."

He frowned in thought. "That's not exactly comforting…"

Raoul didn't get to finish his sentence, as the bedroom door slammed open to reveal a very pissed off Erik. He still had his overcoat on, having bypassed the women tending the entrance in search of Christine. And here she was, sitting on her bed with a cute, young man, both of them looking up at Erik as though he had caught them in the act.

Even when he had killed Buquet, Christine knew Erik hadn't been this scary. He looked ready to explode.

She leapt up from her seat just as he pulled his gun out and aimed it directly at Raoul's chest. He fired once, missing her by a hair as she shoved Raoul off the bed. Shocked, Erik stood frozen in the doorway before rushing forward to grab her by the arms and examine her for injuries. "Are you alright? Did I hit you?"

She latched onto Erik's arms and yelled to Raoul, "Get out of here!"

Erik's eyes widened as Raoul hesitated, wanting to help her. He reached for his underarm holster, but Christine snapped, "Don't you do it! Leave! I'm fine here!"

Confused, Raoul nodded and hurried out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Erik didn't even struggle in Christine's grip, which he could have easily broken. He glared down at her, eyes gleaming in anger and pain. "I'm sure your boyfriend is out of the club by now. Would you mind letting go of me?"

She let go of his arms, moving her grip to encircle his waist tightly. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she murmured, "I didn't do anything, Erik. I promise. I wouldn't do anything like that to hurt you."

The tension stiffening his shoulders and chest eased a fraction, but he still held his back painfully straight. "Why were you up here then?"

Christine's breath caught in her throat and she craned her neck to look into his dark eyes. Who would she betray? Erik or Raoul? "He's an old friend. I was surprised to see him here. He just wanted to talk."

"I'm sure he did," Erik bit off sarcastically. The sadness in her eyes softened his expression and he reached up to ghost a touch along her jaw. "You have to be more careful, Christine. Men aren't always your knights in shining armor. Sometimes they're just human with secrets and needs as real as your own."

"Are you sure you aren't talking about yourself?" A lopsided smile spread across her full, red lips. It melted his heart and for the life of him, he couldn't resist leaning down to capture her lips with his own.

She felt the coolness of his lips, so different from the warmth that flooded her through to her toes. He broke the kiss, lips still hovering centimeters from her own to whisper, "Never for money, Christine. Don't place a value on such wonders. Promise me."

"I promise." She breathed as she arched upward for another kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Jen and Millie's brother for info regarding guns and the parts of guns for Christine! If not for Jen, I would have called the part of the revolver that holds the bullets a "barrel". Oops.

**Chapter Four: Guns and Roses**

The man was insufferable. That was all there was to it.

Erik corrected her grip on the light revolver for what must have been the millionth time this afternoon. He had picked her up from Madame Giry's two hours ago for their first lesson in firearms.

Needless to say, it wasn't going to well.

"Your hold is weak! The gun isn't going to break if you squeeze it." He wrapped his gloved hands around hers on the gun firmly. "If you hold a gun like that and fire, the kick will make you drop it on your foot."

She stared up at him as he instructed, mesmerized by his lips throughout his explanation. They were only inches apart. If she really wanted she could reach up and-

Without looking down at her, he grabbed her chin and directed her face forward. The target hung on its mechanism a few feet away. She wondered how he had access to a private, indoors shooting area in such a nice building, but decided not to ask. Erik loved his mystery something fierce.

Irritated, she gripped the handle of the gun hard and pulled the trigger. She imagined wringing Erik's neck and before she knew it, her grip had firmed and steadied.

"Good!" He praised, letting his hand drop from hers with satisfaction. "You're getting it."

"You'll get it," she grumbled under her breath, drawing back the hammer and squeezing the trigger repeatedly before the chamber clicked empty. She managed to actually nick the target, though she was nowhere near the bull's eye yet.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she amended in frustration. After she stopped firing, he cautiously reached out and pried to gun from her hands. "You love to take away my fun."

"If we don't leave now, you're going to be late for your… other lessons," Erik informed her, slipping the revolver into the holster at his thigh. He checked his watch for confirmation of the time. 7:00 PM. Madame Giry's was already open for the night.

"Just call me a student of Madame Giry's school of hard knocks and mafia etiquette," Christine sighed, rubbing her eyes. She hadn't slept well the previous night, what with scenes of Erik and Raoul swarming her mind like lemmings to a cliff.

"Clever," he watched her with concern hidden behind his dark eyes. Considering the events of the past few days, she was holding up surprisingly well for a woman in her situation. Now that she was staying at the Madame's, he couldn't be near her at all hours. What if she was crying herself to sleep every night alone? Or worse, just crying with no sleep?

"So, when do I get my own gun?" She asked hopefully as they waited in the elevator. Muzak played harmlessly in the background.

"When I'm sure you won't shoot off your own foot with one," he replied easily. She fell into her familiar sulk and they exited into the parking lot in silence.

When they reached Madame Giry's, Erik shifted into park and waited for her to exit. Instead of getting out, she scooted closer to him on the bucket seat. She leaned in expectantly, her face upturned, lips full and waiting.

Erik stared down at her, suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of fear and self-loathing. He was already corrupting this poor, beautiful girl with his-

Christine opened her eyes into a look of annoyance after a few seconds passed and sat back in her seat. "Stingy old man."

Then she pushed open the passenger side door and jumped out of the car, leaving him alone as she stalked toward the entrance of the nightclub. Madame Giry's was just as busy as the night before, Christine noted as she entered. Meg spotted her and quickly swooped over, neglecting a customer momentarily. "Christine, you're on door duty. I put your dress out on your bed, so go change."

"Thanks, Meg," Christine patted Meg's offered hand and quickly made her way up to their room to get dressed for work. The dress tonight was black and white, sleeveless and stopped at mid thigh. Next to the dress rested a single, blood red rose. She lifted the rose to her lips gingerly and smiled as she breathed in its faint aroma. Reluctantly, she placed the rose back on her bed and changed into the dress.

An hour later, Christine stifled a bored yawn behind her hand. The opening crowd was starting to slow and she hadn't taken a jacket from a customer in at least five minutes. Her legs were starting to ache in the three inch heels she'd borrowed from Meg and in the back of her mind she was already checking out for the night.

A rather large man only a few inches taller than her shoved through the front door, his brown overcoat slightly furry and cut too long for his height, falling close to his ankles as he walked. He peered around the room through beady, narrowed eyes before focusing on Christine, who smiled brightly at him with her hands out. "May I take your coat, sir?"

He removed his coat, moving closer to her with a quick shuffle. When she tried to take the coat, his arm snaked out to grab her by the wrist, pulling her arm behind her back painfully. Startled, she froze in his grip, not struggle for fear of him breaking her arm. He pressed the barrel of a gun stealthily to her back, his weapon hidden under the coat he draped over his arm.

"Miss Daae, my boss insists upon meeting you. I have a car waiting out front to take us to her in style." He applied a brutal pressure to her wrist, sending a sharp pain darting up her radius. Biting back on her cry, she let him pull her toward the entrance.

Calmly, Christine sought the eyes of anyone who could help her. Meg's frightened expression met hers and Christine sent her a tiny nod before Piangi shouldered open the front door and tugged her along. Just as he opened the door to exit, Raoul rushed inside, fixing his tie hurriedly.

Raoul and Piangi crashed into each other in their haste to get where they needed to be, sending them both teetering off balance. Piangi's hold on Christine loosened enough for her to slip free. Remembering Raoul's actions from the previous night, she darted forward and slipped her hands under his blazer.

Luckily, he had his holster on in the same place under his arm and she quickly jerked his gun free.

_Safety off,_ a vicious voice in her mind ordered and she obeyed, training the gun on the recovering Piangi. "Leave. Now."

Having dropped his gun in the confusion, Piangi started for it only to have Christine shoot the ground at his feet. He froze in mid-step. She tried for her best imitation of Erik's pissed off voice. "Do I look like I'm joking with you, sir? Leave the gun and get out of here or your kneecap is my next target."

Honestly, his knee had been her **first** target, but she couldn't admit that now.

Piangi stared at her, a look of fear passing over his face before he ran toward his car. Once he was gone, Christine exhaled in relief and retrieved the forgotten pistol. She carried it, testing its weight. It was heftier than Raoul's semi-automatic pistol and the practice revolver Erik had let her use. It was also shiny, metallic, and now it was all hers.

"Thanks, Raoul," Christine handed him his gun back remembering to click the safety on before placing it into his hands. Raoul stood stunned in place so Christine took his pistol back and holstered it under his arm again.

Patting his cheek twice, she walked back through the entrance of the nightclub. Madame Giry was following a frazzled Meg toward the front door, but they both slid to a halt when they saw Christine reenter with a grim look on her pretty face.

"I could have been dead by now," Christine snapped at them and they eyed the menacing gun in her right hand.

"That's Piangi's gun," Madame Giry murmured in awe. "He is Carlotta's right hand man. But why would he attack you?"

"You tell me!" Christine demanded, angrily. "Who is Carlotta anyway?"

Raoul answered from behind her, getting her attention. "Carlotta is one of the big bosses vying for authority over the city after the death of the old boss."

"Yes, but Carlotta was also a trusted friend to Elizabeth," Madame Giry stated in confusion then realized who had spoken. "You! You aren't welcome here anymore."

"Wha?" Raoul was hustled backward by Madame Giry, her arms blocking him from ducking around her. He tried to talk to Christine over Giry's flailing arms. "Christine, meet me outside!"

"She will not!" Madame Giry hissed. "Do you think the Phantom takes kindly to sharing his women?"

Christine slapped her forehead in dismay as realization dawned on Raoul's boyish face. "That guy from yesterday was-?"

"Out out out!"

"Christine, don't worry, I'll be back!" he managed just before the Madame shoved him out the door and shut it decisively in his face. When she turned back around, she was brushing her hands off as if disgusted with the whole ordeal.

Glaring at Christine, she crooked her finger, beckoning her closer. Christine started forward until Giry grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her near as she said, "Do not see that boy ever again if you want him to remain alive. The Phantom has eyes and ears in this place. He will get reports from the other girls on your progress and if he learns of what happened tonight…"

"But I didn't do anything with Raoul!" Christine complained, wincing as Madame Giry's nails clutched into the soft flesh of her neck. "Besides, if Erik can have informants then so can I!"

Giry dropped her hand from Christine's neck and quirked an eyebrow at her. "You expect me to believe you've already secured a spy in the field?"

Rubbing her abused neck with her free hand, Christine nodded with a wince. "What did you think we were doing last night? Having sex?"

"Well, yes," Madame Giry admitted simply before sweeping back through the club toward her office. Christine eyed the woman as she disappeared into the back room, then glanced down at the shiny gun in her hand. What was she supposed to do with her new weapon? She didn't have a cool holster like Erik or Raoul…

"Why are you standing in the doorway?" A smooth, deep voice asked from over her shoulder. She knew it was Erik before she turned around. His eyes widened when he saw the large, dangerous pistol in her hands. "Where did you get that?!"

"Nowhere." She stepped back when he swiped for the gun, clutching it close to her chest protectively. Realizing what she had just said, she revised her statement. "I mean, I took it from the fat guy who tried to kidnap me just a few minutes ago."

Erik stared at her in shock. When he tried to take the gun from her again, she moved out of his reach. Eyeing him haughtily, she petted the gun and questioned, "Hey. Are you trying to take my awesome gun?"

"Christine, you can't keep that gun." He was torn between amusement and anger.

"Why not? You already have two of your own. You don't need this one," she pointed out as she continued to watch him warily.

"Christine! If you fired that gun, the only thing you'd hit is your face with the butt. The recoil on that monster would knock you unconscious, or at the very least give you a black eye." He eyed the gun for a moment before adding, "Not to mention that it would bite the skin between your thumb and forefinger because of the way it fires. You'd need to learn how to hold it."

"Hmph," she let him pry the gun from her fingers. "You're just jealous that my gun is bigger than yours."

Once he had the gun safely in his possession, he led her up the stairs so they could speak in private. As they walked, she noticed him examining the newly acquired gun with curiosity. "The fat man who attacked you. Was his name Piangi?"

"That's what Madame Giry called him." Christine stated while shutting the bedroom door behind them. "She mentioned something about Carlotta and my mother being friends."

He had faraway expression as he nodded. "That is what they wanted everyone to think. The truth is they had fallen apart a few years before her death."

"Why?" Christine asked. The look on his face was more interesting than his words.

"Your father was the reason, actually." Erik stated, placing the gun on the bed and picking up the rose he had left for her. He held it out to her as he asked, "Are you sure you're ready to hear this?"

Unable to find her voice, she let him pressed the flower into her hands and nodded. He sat down on the bed next to her and began to speak in a lulling, quiet tone. "Your mother and father fell in love before my eyes. One day she was running around, free as you are now, the next she was engaged to Gustav Daae. He came from a long line of shrewd Mafioso. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was in love."

"They got married and relied on each other as joint leaders of the area. Soon, you were born. Carlotta was Elizabeth's best friend from their years at Madame Giry's and served as bride's maid in your mother's wedding." He paused to run a hand through his hair before continuing in a strained voice. "So it was quite a shock when Elizabeth found out your father and Carlotta had been having an affair for a few years."

Christine stared up into Erik's eyes. He looked down uncomfortably and jolted in surprise. Her hand was dripping tiny droplets of blood that trailed down the stem of the rose. He took her hand gently in his and she watched as he pried the thorny flower from her fingers before lifting her scratched palm to his lips. "I'm sorry, Christine. You need to know who your enemies are and why."

He placed several tender kisses to the cuts while she fought back the tears that burned her eyes. With her other hand she reached up toward his mask. "Take this off, Erik."

Erik sat up straight instantly, dropping her hand. A look of fear and surprise entered into his dark eyes. She moved her hand closer to the mask and he leaned back. She stretched her arm out all the way and he ducked out of the way. "I can't… Christine, no, I can't."

She saw the panic in his eyes and let out a breath. She stood and reached her hands out to hold his. "Erik, what are you afraid of? You've killed people, lived in darkness and done what was needed to survive. What can I possibly do to you?"

He didn't reply, only reached out to cup her cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb against her skin. The slick leather of his gloves only served to annoy her at the moment, a reminder of the constant wall he placed between them. She swatted his touch away with the back of her hand, whirling on her heel to pace a short distance. He peered at her, his hand still lingering in the air for a moment before dropping to his side.

"I bet you let my mother see your face." She snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. The look he gave her was one of utter disbelief.

"Of course I didn't. I wouldn't wish that horror on anyone, let alone someone I lov-" he caught himself in the middle of the word and hastily amended, "cared for."

Her mouth dropped open in shock and worked in silent syllables as she tried to find her voice. Finally she managed to growl, "I want you to leave my room, Erik. Right now."

It took a moment for her words to register in his mind. A dark look dropped over the visible portion of his face and he walked quickly to the door, shutting it decisively behind himself. Christine glared him, daring him to return so she could get rid of the ugly lamp sitting on the night table. It would look much better in pieces and it would get rid of his damned mask in the process.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** I do love me some writing something fierce.

**Chapter Five: Paper masks easily torn**

_She didn't even know if they were real memories or just fragmented dreams her mind had hastily thrown together to cope with the sudden influx of pain and knowledge. The dream cut in and out, one moment sharply vivid then wispy and incomprehensible._

_A sweet, female voice filled the air and she felt a wave of love and warmth. "Do you… hold her?"_

_The ceiling covered by a face too hazy to distinguish. A flash of white cut his expression in two, someone new and exciting for her simple mind. And the voice of an angel that brought a happy smile to her lips. "I shouldn't… so little… hurt her…"_

_Maybe she reached upward at that point. Lord knows the visitor's voice made her want to be held. The female voice laughed in reply to whatever he had said. "Don't… absurd, Erik. Look… her… not afraid…"_

_He pulled his face back and Christine felt an undeniable urge to cry at the loss. He quickly returned to his position staring down at her and she must have stopped sobbing immediately. Another sweet, womanly laugh filled the air. "Spoiled rotten… Gustav gives her everything… needs someone like you."_

_Another need to reach upward and this time two black hands rewarded her by slipped down to wrap around her hesitantly. The unsteady feeling of floating supported by hands larger than her mother's as she was cradled to a warm, flat chest. A scent she would never forget: musky and spicy, surrounded her and she leaned into the aroma, drifting to sleep in the happiness._

_Another scene, slightly more concrete. She ran down the hall, spurred on by the sound of her favorite person's voice. Nearing the front door she saw her angel in black and she dove at him, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs. He looked younger than she remembered, his eyes sparkling when he saw her. "Angel! You came back!"_

_Her mother, beautiful and smiling as usual, knelt down to her height. "Come now, Christine. Let Erik sit down before you maul him."_

"_It's alright," he assured her, scooping the five year old Christine onto his arm easily. "I don't mind."_

_Christine perched on his forearm like it was a swing and leaned forward to press her cheek against his mask. "Will you sing your song for me, Angel?"_

_Christine's mother laughed brightly and shook her head. "I'll get lunch started. You two obviously have some catching up to do! And here I thought you'd be stricter with her than her father. You're worse than he is with the spoiling!"_

_Erik followed behind her mother with Christine still on his arm. "It's fine, Elizabeth. Anything for the little princess."_

_Christine patted his mask with a small, sticky hand and he quickly shifted her to his other arm, out of the reach of his secret. He smiled at her when she pouted. "Curious much?"_

"_I just wanted to see my Angel's pretty face." Christine explained with a childish, flattering tone._

"_Did you want me to sing 'Masquerade' for you?" His change of topic worked easily on her. She nodded happily and let him put her down so he could sing her favorite song- his song. The words eluded her, but the tune floated up from the depth of her mind, wrapping her in its beauty. She sighed and closed her eyes on the dream._

Christine woke to a rough hand shaking her shoulder. Meg's face peered down at her worriedly. "Christine? You were crying. What's wrong?"

Sitting up slowly in her bed, her hands flew to her face and felt wetness. Her voice cracked from sleep. "I don't know. It wasn't a bad dream. Just made me sad, I guess."

"Well, you're okay now," Meg's arms gave her a quick hug for comfort and a pat on the head. "If you want breakfast, you'd best get up now. I just finished cooking."

Nodding, Christine watched the blonde girl sweep from the room and pressed a hand to her forehead to steady her thoughts. The clock on the nightstand blinked the time at 9 AM. She really did not want to be subjected to training with Erik today, not after last night. That man could avoid conflicts with the best of them. No doubt he would be just as polite and distant as always during another two hours of firearms lessons.

Groaning under her breath, she changed into a nice part of running pants and a loose T-shirt, pulling her unruly hair into an easy ponytail. Maybe she could get out of it, she pondered as she slipped into socks and tennis shoes. She hurried to the small kitchen near the bedrooms on the second floor for breakfast.

Meg was the only one there when she entered. "Meg, do you know any self-defense you can teach me?"

"Huh? Isn't that Erik's job?" she asked, stirring the eggs on the stove. "I know some things my mom taught me when I was younger. Just a few dirty ways to fight."

"Would you mind showing me after you're done?" Christine asked, hopefully.

"No problem," Meg moved the pan of eggs from the burner and turned off the stove. They ate quickly then rushed downstairs toward the back door that led out into a vacant lot.

"The first thing you should know is that screaming is oftentimes an easy weapon. Lean into the attacker and scream at the top of your lungs straight into his or her ear. That shit hurts like a mother. Sometimes it's enough to get them to let go then you can run." Meg motioned for her to stand closer. Wrapping her arms under Christine's in a firm hold, she instructed how to break someone's hold. "If it's a guy, you want to go for the groin."

"In this case, you slam your heel down on my foot and elbow me in the rib, twisting as you go. That should be enough to get them to ease up on their hold enough to slip out." Meg paused as she dropped her hold before Christine could get any ideas. "We really can't practice this too much since I don't have protective gear. But it's easy enough."

Christine nodded, absorbing the information with interest. As she stared at Meg, she noticed some movement at the top of the brick wall surrounding Madame Giry's. A familiar young man was climbing over the wall, his long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Raoul wasn't dressed in a suit today.

Christine tried to keep her face blank as she turned to Meg and motioned for the door. "Can you go get us some water before we start with practicing? It's so hot out here already, I'm afraid my endurance for this stuff is low."

Meg smiled and walked back into the club, leaving Christine alone for when Raoul finally heaved himself over the wall. He jogged over to her lightly, his jeans conforming to a slender, boyish figure. "I've been out here all night waiting for you! I thought something must have happened to you for sure."

"You've been out here all night?" She asked, surprised.

"Well, from about five o'clock in the morning on, really," He added then remembered something. "Why didn't you TELL me the Phantom was forcing you to stay here?!"

"Forcing- wha?" she managed before he grabbed her by the arm and hurried her out of the back lot. "Where are we going, Raoul?"

"I'm taking you in as an eye witness to the Phantom's whereabouts and placing you in protective custody," he said, making her halt in her tracks. "What's wrong?"

"I can't," she stated, a worried line appearing between her eyebrows. "I can't talk about him."

"Christine, your testimony can help the police put him away for good." Raoul urged in a pleading voice. "Please, I need this. I've been living with these… criminals for almost a month now and until you came along I had no leads at all."

"It's not my problem if you can't do your job without my help," she said angrily, pulling free of his grip.

"Christine, if you don't report what you know, Madame Giry might get in trouble for harboring a criminal."

"You say it like you have enough to convict him of a crime." Christine crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze on Raoul, who fidgeted in his place.

"Not yet, but-"

"Not ever, Raoul." She corrected. "He's not stupid enough to be caught by anyone, let alone a cop who doesn't even want to be here. You'll never catch him if you keep expecting others to turn him in."

Just then, Meg came running toward them with water bottles in her hands. "You're that boy from yesterday and the day before! Get away from her!"

Raoul sent Christine a last, pleading look before jumping into his car and driving away. Meg panted as she reached where Christine stood, handing her a bottle. "Did you forget the whole screaming thing I just taught you? Geez."

Christine smiled at her apologetically. "Sorry. He caught me by surprise."

"Well," she huffed as she opened her water and took a drink. "I think you just got your very own stalker. The other girls are gonna be jealous."

"I'm really grateful that you're doing this for me," Christine said for the third time since she and Meg had left for her house.

"Don't mention it, but I can't believe Erik didn't let you pack before he took you away. That's absurd. The girls can't keep lending you clothes, not that they mind. Most of them don't have much to wear anyway."

They pulled into the driveway and Meg parked the car. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Christine shook her head. "It should be okay. I'll just be a minute."

As Christine got out of the car, Meg leaned over and called, "Don't forget a nice dress for the masquerade party tonight!"

Christine waved her into silence as she neared the front door. The police had boarded up the front door, which was for the best since Erik had shot it all to hell and it probably didn't stay shut on its own anymore. There was police caution tape draped back and forth over the door. Sighing to herself, she walked over to the large side gate and pulled a hidden string that let the gate swing open harmlessly. A fundamental flaw in its construction, knowing what she did now about her parents' need for security.

She circled around to the sliding glass door leading into a living room in the middle of the first floor. It was unlocked, as usual. How careless of her father to let this lack of security continue! Any number of his enemies could have just entered and…

Well, he'd already paid that price. Luckily she'd been away at the time or else she might have lost her life too.

Erik wouldn't have let that happen, a small voice in the back of her mind chided. It was a silly thought. Even if he was watching over her, he couldn't be her guardian angel ever second of the day. And people were so fragile.

Shaking the gruesome thoughts from her head, she walked up the stairs toward her bedroom. She pulled out a duffel bag and began tossing articles of clothing into it, pausing at her closet in front of her selection of dresses and shoes. The only one flashy enough for a masquerade party had belonged to her mother. Her father had given her all her mother's old clothes when she was eighteen, insisting she could wear whatever she wanted.

The dress had a corset top and the skirt was full like an upside down carnation. It was a pure, luminous white beaded with tiny, lavender crystals sewn in a swirling, circular pattern down the top half. It had an almost ballerina look to it. She always wondered why her mother had bought it. It was beautiful, but more suited to a Halloween party than everyday wear.

She carefully rolled the dress in its plastic cover and stuffed it into the duffel bag on top of her normal clothes and work dresses. Choosing three pairs of shoes and placing them in as well, she zipped the duffel bag shut. Turning to leave, something on her dresser caught her eye.

A toy monkey held a pair of cymbals in its tiny paws. It was coated in a layer of dust as she hadn't played with the toy for many years. If she remembered correctly, when wound up, it played a lovely tune…

On a whim, she snatched the cymbal monkey from her dresser, clutching it to her chest as she ran back down to the car where Meg waited. As she neared the car, she realized that Meg was talking heatedly into her cellphone, an angry look on her face. Meg saw her approach and waved at her to hurry.

Christine opened the door to a blast of noise from Meg's end of the conversation. "Mother, I didn't know she was supposed to stay in the club, okay?! Damn. We're coming back now anyway!"

Christine tossed her bag to the floorboard and climbed in. "Yeah yeah, she's right here. Tell him to calm the fuck down. Does he want to talk to her?"

After a moment's pause, Meg thrust the phone at Christine. "You talk to him, I've gotta drive."

Warily, Christine took the phone and held it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Christine cringed and almost dropped the phone in her haste to get it away from her ear. "Erik? I wanted to go get some clothes."

"You could have asked me to take you when I came to pick you up for our lesson!"

Sighing heavily, Christine wound up the twist key on the back of the monkey toy as she spoke. "I didn't want to have a lesson with you. I was pretty angry with you from yesterday. I didn't want to see you yet."

"Christine-" He paused as if listening to something. "What's that?"

"Huh?" she asked, then remembered the monkey chiming softly in her hands. "Oh, I grabbed an old toy while I was there. It was all covered in dust and, I don't know, I just wanted to bring it with me."

There was a long silence and she thought he had hung up. "Are you still there?"

His voice was overly stern as he ordered, "Just hurry up and get back here."

He hung up and Christine passed the phone back to Meg. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd get in trouble. I just wanted to get my things."

Meg shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it. It's not the first time my mom's been angry with me. You know mothers. Their bark is worse than their bite."

Christine wondered if this had been the case with her own mother. From what Erik told her, she was a paragon of virtue, the perfect mix of darkness and light. She had lost her mother when she was five, almost six years old. Her memory of Elizabeth Daae was cloudy and sad.

"Meg, do you know anything about my mom?"

Meg started in her seat, surprised then groaned. "Damn, I upset you didn't I? I totally forgot about… well, your mother being dead. Anyway, I think I met her once or twice. She often came to my mom for advice. I was just a little girl, barely older than you, when she committed suicide."

"What?" Christine stared at her in shock. The monkey toy fell forgotten to her lap. "Suicide? Since when?"

"Since fifteen years ago when she died. You didn't know?" Meg demanded, confused. "I could be wrong; I mean I was only ten at the time. But that's what my mom told me when I asked why everyone was so sad. The women in the club wore black roses pinned to their dresses for a whole month afterwards. And Erik disappeared for a long time. Mom was afraid he was gonna do something crazy."

A sad smile ghosted her lips as she listened to Meg's account of that dark time. Meg glanced at her worriedly from the corner of her eyes and announced in a lighter tone. "Ice cream! Man, it's been so long since I had some of that. What d'ya say?"

Surprised by the sudden switch in moods, Christine smirked. "Trying to cheer me up?"

"I dunno. Is it working? Mmm, just think of it. Butter pecan. Maybe some cookies and cream. Hey, we can get triple scoops. I don't know about you, but I'm already there." Meg shrugged as she parked the car in the lot outside the ice cream shop. "I'm just saying. You can come along for the ride. My treat. If you ask nicely, I might tack a movie onto the deal. You can be my date. No chick flicks though."

Christine laughed and followed her out of the car.

It was two in the afternoon when Meg and Christine finally got back to the club, laughing about the ridiculous action movie they'd just seen. Erik and Madame Giry were waiting nervously at the bar counter in the empty club. They jumped up when the front door opened and shut.

"Can you believe he flipped the car three times? Now that's movie magic."

"I was more surprised when the bad guy turned out to be the old woman living next door!"

Meg and Christine halted upon seeing the glowering expressions waiting for them. Christine had her duffel bag slung over her shoulders, the cymbal monkey clasped in her hands. Madame Giry pointed to Meg and then to her office. "You. I have words for you. In my office, now."

Meg sighed and cast a martyred look at her accomplice, then followed her mother back into the room. The office door banged shut and muffled yelling followed. Erik stared at Christine, who returned his angry scowl with ease. He opened his mouth to start in on her, but she brushed passed him and up the stairs. "Save it. You're neither my mother nor my father and I don't need a lecture."

He stood frozen, an outraged look on his face as if she'd slapped him hard across the cheek. Before she could resist him, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out to the parking lot. Erik barely had the door to his Buick open before he was throwing her inside, slamming the door shut behind her and swiftly rounding the car to get in on the other side.

Christine hastily locked the door just as he reached for the handle. Furious, he scrabbled with his keys to unlock the door only to have her jam the lock back down again with her fist. They glared at each other through the glass window. He whirled around to try and reach the passenger door before she could remember to lock it.

Scrambling across the bucket seat, she reached for the locking mechanism just a moment too late. He yanked open the door, almost sending her toppling to the sidewalk. Grabbing her shoulder to catch her before she fell, he kissed her passionately while their hearts beat hard from the absurd fight.

She struggled in his arms for a second before digging her fingers into his shoulders and returning the bruising kiss, mind whirling. Too many emotions battered against her, longing and pain, confusion and lust. She needed this. She needed him and she wanted him to know it.

They broke apart against their will, both gasping for air. Between pants, she met his eyes and murmured in a ragged breath, "Erik. I think I'm in love with you."

A look of utter disbelief and wonder came over him. He was dazed with hope. "But… you were so angry about my mask. How can you be attracted to someone whose face yo haven't seen?"

She leaned in to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she skimmed her hand over the cold porcelain covering the right side of his face. "I don't understand it either, but I am. Once you're ready, we'll deal with the mask. For now, I just want to sort through this slowly. I don't want to make any more mistakes, Erik. And I don't want to lie to myself."

"Christine!" Meg called from the door of the club. "We have to help decorate for the party tonight!"

Erik groaned under his breath, their face still inches apart, close enough for more kisses. Christine was pleased to find she was having an effect on him. Good. Maybe now he'd know how she felt when he'd teased her and then left her alone two nights before. She grinned up at the desire in his eyes and slid forward to get out of the car. "Duty calls. Are you coming to the masquerade party later?"

"Of course," he replied curtly, grumpy that she even had to ask as he stepped back so she could escape. "And I expect you to be my date. If I find that… young… boy… lurking around, I'll-"

"Don't worry about Raoul," Christine interrupted, slipping her arms around his waist and under his black blazer. She ran a finger along the gun strapped to the small of his back, hidden from view. "I got rid of him."

The tense look on his face softened and he placed a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling away from her embrace. She grabbed her discarded duffel bag and the poor monkey toy as she made her way back to the club. Meg held the door open for her as she entered and shot her a clever look. "What?"

"Nothing!" Meg let the door swing shut behind her and threw her arm around Christine's shoulders. "Lover's quarrel solved?"

Shooting a glare at the blonde woman, Christine shrugged her off and made for the stairs. Meg called after her, "Okay, be that way. I'm just gonna start cleaning then. Don't be long!"

After the cleaning and decorations, Madame Giry gathered all the women working in the club into the circular area near the bar. They had all bustled around after getting the party set up in order to change into their costumes and fancy dresses. Madame Giry went around with a bag of masks, letting her employees pick out their masks as she spoke. "The rules of the party are: do not take off your mask. By the end of the night, you must accept the rose of one masked gentleman for the closing dance."

"Whether or not you decide to sleep with the man whose flower you accepted is up to you," she stated as she reached Christine in the long line of women and halted in surprise. She stared at the white and lilac dress for a moment. "Where did you get that dress?"

Christine's hand clung to the fabric of the poofy skirt, smoothing down the perfect layers of ivory lace and silk. She scuffed the hardwood floor with the toe of her white high-heeled shoes. "It belonged to my mother. I grabbed it when Meg took me home to get my clothes."

After another long moment of studying Christine's attire, Giry pulled the bag of masks away before she could reach for one. "No. There is a special mask for this dress. Meg, come here, darling."

Meg came forward wearing a dark blue spaghetti strap dress, more slip than anything, and tall, leather boots. The tan and blue of her feathered mask went well with her outfit. Madame Giry handed her the bag. "Please finish this up for me, dear. I need to speak with Christine."

Madame Giry took Christine by the hand and led her up the stairs, passed the second floor and further. She unlocked the door to the third floor. Her master suite.

Christine stepped onto the plush, green carpet lining the floor of Madame Giry's chamber and fought to keep her heels from sinking into the floor. "Shoes, please, Christine. This is wool carpeting."

Kicking off her heels, Christine padded into the room, enjoying the softness of the carpet on her bare feet. A spacious, four post bed sat along one wall with an antique chest pressed up against the foot of the bed. Madame Giry strode across the room toward it and threw back the lid. The metal hinges on the treasure chest squeaked in protest.

"This belonged to your mother," she lifted an elaborate face mask out of the chest. It was shaped like a butterfly constructed of sturdy, white paper decorated with splashes of purple and gilded gold wire. Tiny green drops of plastic dangled from the edges of the wings. "She left it in my care. She made it for her first masquerade party working here."

Christine brushed a tentative finger along the gilded under wire of the mask. So much excitement showed in the details of this mask. Her mother had obviously been dying to attend a party just like the one she was about to enjoy tonight. Madame Giry placed the mask into her hands carefully with a soft smile. Christine took the mask like a badge of honor and turned glittering, brown eyes on the older woman. "Did my mother kill herself, Madame?"

"Yes, little one." Giry replied softly, brushing Christine's curly, brown hair from her shoulder. "There were many times when your mother felt trapped in her life. Everyone placed her on a pedestal and your father was… controlling. A very strict husband. He forbade her from seeing her friends, but even then she never thought ill of him. He knew no other way of treating those he loved. You know this in your heart."

"I was so shocked to find out the truth about how he lived," Christine whispered as a tear escaped the corner of her eyes and fell on the surface of the mask. "And if he lied about that, how hard would it be to lie about other things? It's sad that I know the least about my own parents."

"They loved you, Christine. That's all you need to know for sure. The rest you can discover as you go," Madame Giry patted her arm and led her out of the room. "Now, your mask! And do not let it slip during the party."

Christine pulled her mask over her face carefully and fixed her curly hair around it. Then she slipped her feet back into her shoes, squared her shoulders and slowly descended the stairs where the other women of Madame Giry's were greeting the first patrons of the night.

Erik waited at the bottom of the stairs in his black suit over pinstriped dress shirt, a red silk rose and handkerchief tucked securely into his front suit pocket. A black, glass mask shaped like a half circle concealed the entire right side of his face and a few strands of his slicked back hair fell on his forehead. He reached out a gloved hand as she approached and she placed her smaller hand in his.

She smiled up at him and from what little she could see of his face, he was gazing at her in open admiration. Leaning close, she whispered, "So, are we going to stand here all night, or are you gonna ask me to dance?"

Afraid she would suddenly change her mind, Erik took her to the dance floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** So, I just read Susan Kay's Phantom for the first time ever at the encouragement of Sara. Ouch. That book is like a crowbar to the chest, ain't it? The moral of the story? No one's happy. But getting to read about cracked-out Erik was an experience. "Presents. I must buy birthday presents." It's never gonna get old. Also, Sara helped me with figuring my way through slight writer's block.

**Chapter Six: Last Daae Standing**

For once, Erik felt a slight wave of gratitude for his mother being who she was as he led a wide-eyed, excited Christine to the dance floor. His mother had danced on this very floor in Madame Giry's some 30 years prior with her light, sure feet. Even before coming to Madame Giry's, she had made her livelihood through her body and dancing.

His mother was a pretty woman with a brief attention span and too many young men who had followed her home from strip bars panting for encores. Such encores always ended with poor Erik abandoning their apartment and wait in the car to escape the moaning. The squeaking beds and rustle of blood money echoed in his head every time he saw his mother.

Her love was reserved for music and dance, though she slept with men to provide for herself and her ugly burden. She'd tried to drop Erik off at an orphanage when he was seven and speed away in her faded station wagon. When she had to stop at a red traffic light, the passenger door creaked open and little Erik climbed back into the car, the mask on his face slightly askew from running so fast. He was persistent in his need to be near her, even if she hated him.

"Erik?" Christine whispered, cutting through the hazy fog of memory with her sweet concern. They were standing motionless on the dance floor, his hands on her waist, her arms circling his shoulders. He exerted no pressure at all in leading her through the steps, his hands flitting restlessly over her curves as if afraid she would turn to mist and escape through his fingers if he tried to truly touch her.

She looked up from resting her head against his shoulder. "You seem so far away."

Smiling down at her, he whirled her around to the sound of music flowing around them, dipping her low as he supported her weight easily. Her mind reeling with the sudden movement and the beauty of his unity with the music, she clung to his arms as he smoothly led her out of the dip into a close, waltzing position. Still, he left a careful inch between their bodies that made Christine want to scream.

Instead, she threw herself against him, breaching that distance with a defiant glint in her eyes. Trailing her fingers up his arms seductively, she was rewarded when an errant shiver racked his normally steady shoulders. His eyes closed briefly as a crescendo of happiness overtook his senses. He wanted to memorize each perfect detail of the moment, sure there wouldn't be another to match it.

She proved him wrong when she tugged him down by the lapels of his suit to press her soft lips to the left corner of his.

The urgent whispering is what reminded Christine they were in public. Erik pulled back to search the area with anxious energy. Irritated, she wondered if no one had seen two people kissing before, but the crowd wasn't murmuring about the Phantom. This was a name she knew only through the memories of others.

"Carlotta! It's Carlotta!"

The high, annoying laughter that followed in the wake of the crowd's murmur set Christine's teeth on edge. Erik returned the pressure her hand was exerting on his and she realized she was reacting instinctively to the other woman. She was an enemy. And Erik knew with surprising certainty that Christine would be an impassioned leader. That could be a source of strength, but also a gaping weakness. He needed to teach her cold patience in vengeance.

Carlotta swept into the nightclub like a goddess of night in a flowing black gown lined with silvery mesh webbing that spanned from her wrists to the bottom of her dress like freakish wings. Her tall, skinny stiletto heels clicked as she strode forward on Piangi's thick arm, the two physical opposites striking a contrast when placed next to each other.

No different, Erik supposed, than Christine beside him.

Carlotta's piercing gaze slashed across the main club area from behind her regal face mask, coming to rest on the dainty figure dressed in white and light purple. A smirk tilted her lips as she raked them with her calculating look. "Forgive me, for a moment I thought I saw the ghost of a woman I once called friend. Now I see you're only a pale imitation."

The blood drained from Christine's face then surged back through her veins in a flush of embarrassment and rage. That… bitch! How dare she-

Erik placed a hand on her arm as she took a step toward the taller woman standing across the dance floor. Christine stilled and peered at him. The expression of calm he wore was nothing short of terrifying.

Carlotta watched them with a harsh bark of laughter, one hand flicking at them dismissively. "Weak wills run in the women of your family, little Miss Daae. You already found someone to dominate you. And here I was worried you might amount to something of a rival from the way my informants spoke of you."

In the farthest recesses of her mind, intense hatred sprung up like an overflowing river. For a fraction of a second, she thanked Erik's decision not to give her a gun. Gun… In a barely audible whisper, Christine asked Erik, "Do you have Piangi's gun?"

He nodded once, a furtive, quick gesture. She stared at Carlotta without backing down and held her hand out to Erik. "Give it to me."

"But you can't fire it-"

"Give me the gun, Erik." Christine stated in a voice of cold steel. Then she added in that soft, barely conceivable murmur, "Trust me. Stay here."

Without further dissent, he slipped the telltale pistol into her small hand. Her fingers curled around the handle and she held it in plain view before her chest as she walked confidently toward Carlotta. Both stood straight, heads high. They were women warriors dancing a razor's edge. One wrong move from either of them and Erik or Piangi could pull a gun and then they'd both be dead.

Carlotta's eyes rested on the approaching girl and the gun in her hands. Christine stopped a few feet away from the other woman and presented the pistol for her inspection, just beyond her reach. "You recognize my new weapon? Your servant does. Look at him tremble. Did he tell you how I took it from him after his failure?"

Piangi's face paled, though his hard eyed expression didn't waver. Christine tapped the barrel of the gun to her chin in thought, wrapping her free hand around her waist in a gesture of careless ease. "Such sloppy work from professionals. How long have you been in this line of work? Really."

Piangi stepped forward to mutter something swiftly into Carlotta's ear, his hands behind his back like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away as punishment. Carlotta's eyes widened in shock and she jabbed a black nail at his chest. He winced as she hissed indignantly, "NO, I will not ask for it back, you fool!"

At this point, Madame Giry swooped in to disburse the crowd that was beginning to congregate around the interesting show. "Carlotta, welcome. Christine, if you wouldn't mind? It's been so long since I spoke to an old friend and former employee."

Christine left the dance floor irritably as a version of Janis Joplin's "Love is like a ball and chain" rang out from the speakers. She swept from the area toward the booth table situated in a dark corner of the club. It was occupied, but when she approached with the formidable gun in her hand and a dark look on her face, the women and men seated there skittered away like bugs. She felt a thrill of power course through her at this and reveled in it as she plopped down on the plastic seat, placing the gun on the table in front of her.

The raspy singing beating from the speakers was strangely soothing and she leaned back on the head rest behind her. Erik slid into the other side of the booth, staring at her across the shiny, black table. "There could have been better ways of handling that."

Christine shrugged, pushing the gun across the table's surface toward him, a preoccupied expression on her face. "Did you know she would be here?"

"There was a possibility. Madame Giry's masquerade parties generally attract a larger crowd than usual."

The strain in her face worried him. By nature, she was a creature who sought warmth and compassion. She tried desperately to protect what she loved, and she loved the memory of her dead parents dearly. Enough to put herself in danger to stand up for them. Enough to order him around knowing he could not resist obeying her.

An unexplainable flood of jealousy knifed through his chest as he realized her love for her parents was wide and deep. The love she claimed to feel for him was new. Fragile. For the first time in his life, he resented Elizabeth Daae, irrational as it was to begrudge a girl loyalty to her mother. "Your mother wouldn't have wanted you to pick fights thoughtlessly with dangerous people."

Christine eyed him and shrugged, propping her elbows on the table. "My mother is dead. I make my own decisions."

"Don't get too carried away, Christine. You aren't ready to take on someone like Carlotta. You have no power base, no one to command, and no experience in this field."

"I have you."

"You want me to wage a one-man war against the most powerful leader in the area and all the members of her gang?" his visible eyebrow hitched up on his forehead. "I'm flattered, but you overestimate me and underestimate Carlotta."

"Then tell me what I have to do to get rid of her!" Christine snapped, hands shaking with anger. "I don't know what's happening to me, Erik. I've never hated someone this way. It is almost uncontrollable."

"I suppose I should at least be grateful you didn't try to shoot her," he grumbled after a long pause. "Christine, if you want me to get rid of her, that isn't a problem. But know that my days as a hit man have been over for a while. I serve myself now and, because I care for you, I try to protect you. If you order me to do something, I can't deny you."

Christine watched his shoulders slump briefly, sagging under the inevitable weight of her assumed reply. Sighing, she reached out to trace the tiny seams of his gloves with her nail. "Even if you killed her now, someone else would take her place. No. Besides, I don't know why you hate taking orders from people, but it obviously bothers you a lot. I can't abuse that trust."

Before he could wrap her hand in his, a man wearing a full face mask of blue and silver walked over and bowed to Christine. "I see you have no rose, Miss. May I have a dance?"

Erik glared at the man's presumption, anger flaring violently from the core of his soul. Surprisingly, Christine jumped to her feet and chirped, "Yes. Let's go. Dance."

She left on the masked man's arm, her back rigid and a slight tremor in her shoulders. Erik watched the man, mentally comparing him to people he knew.

Raoul thought he was quite clever, parading Christine across the dance floor in a slow, whirling dance. She kept flicking gazes over her shoulder to check on what Erik was doing. His brooding gaze was trained on them. How could he not know it was Raoul? Well, if he didn't know it yet, he would realize the truth within seconds and then the shit would hit the fan.

Damage control! Christine's mind whirled as Raoul spun her in his arms. "Why are you here? You have to go!"

"I wanted to apologize for earlier. You were right."

"Yes, I was! And if you had half a brain, you would have taken my words to heart and stayed away from this place!" The panic in her whisper must have registered in her expression briefly, because Erik was now on his feet. Grabbing Raoul's hand, she began leading their dance further into the sea of people. "Shit, shit, shit. Why do I have to save your sorry ass?"

"I saw how you stood up to Carlotta. I didn't know your parents were mafia dons." Raoul said in a distasteful voice, but Christine barely heard him. Erik was now climbing up the stairs in an attempt to keep an eye on them despite her attempt to hide behind a cover of other dancers. "People are already talking about your vendetta against her. They're saying you might try to take over."

"Raoul, I hate to be blunt, but my safety is the least of your concerns right now. I have to get you outside before Erik-" The rest of her words were lost when a sharp pain sliced through her side, cold and urgent.

She pressed a hand to the place where the pain resonated and brought it up for examination. Warm, sticky blood.

"Sweet Jesus!" Raoul exclaimed as red blossomed on her stark white dress. The attacker, a nondescript man in a suit and mask, pulled back the knife for another stab, but was stopped when another man intervened.

Christine had noticed the bald man with dark tan skin watching her throughout her confrontation with Carlotta. His mask was a thick sash of red cloth tied around his upper face with holes cut to allow him to see. Now the man with a mask like Zorro grabbed the attacker's arm and twisted hard. There was a bone-shattering snap and the knife clattered to the dance floor.

The attacker's scream ricocheted off the walls of the club and Christine cringed back, stumbling into Raoul as she clutched at her side. He fumbled with her weight, trying to drag her off the dance floor and away from the violence.

Her mind felt too calm, she realized with a clarity that frightened her. Shock, maybe. A person only had to loose 40 of their body's blood before entering a shock-induced coma that was irreversible.

"Erik," she moaned frantically, an unnamed fear bubbling up within her as Raoul struggled to pull her to a chair. "Where's Erik?"

"Someone call an ambulance!" Raoul snapped at a nearby dancer who watched in stunned silence.

Shoving Raoul aside, Erik scooped Christine into his arms and vaulted up the stairs without a backward glance, leaving Meg and Madame Giry to sort out the mess. Christine huddled close to his chest, his comforting scent enveloping her blank mind and slowly coaxing her out of shock. The pain returned and she welcomed it, anything was better than that horrible numbness between life and death.

"Don't be mad at him. He's so stupid. He doesn't know." Christine babbled almost against her will as she gripped his suit jacket in a white knuckled fist. "Don't hurt him. He's just… he's like I was. He's innocent."

"Hush now," Erik said in a brusque voice. Here she was, bleeding out before his very eyes and she dared to beg for that impudent boy's life? More than that, a dread he hadn't felt in his life clamped icy hands around his neck. He couldn't reach the bedroom fast enough.

He put her on the bed, swiftly pulling a fold-up, emergency kit out from its placed strapped beneath the gun holster on his back. He flipped it open and grabbed his small shears, cutting the dress free from her body without a second thought.

The flesh on her left side red and swelling, a steady stream of blood dribbling from the slice. It was a clean cut and as he examined it, he was relieved to find it wasn't as bad as it looked. The blood that had seemed to pour from it only moments before downstairs was slowing to a clot. Still, she would need to have it properly disinfected then stitched to prevent reopening the wound with normal movement.

There was a syringe of Xylocaine secured within the kit and he took it out, preparing it for injection. It was only a local anesthetic, but it would help immensely. Her mind was already in such a panic, the stinging pain of stitches might be too much for her.

He was careful of her kidneys when injecting the drug. It was such a tricky area to deal with, but he had seen far worse. After a minute, Christine relaxed a fraction, the pain abnormally gone. That was enough of a sign for him to continue. He grabbed the water and peroxide solution and another antiseptic along with cotton balls.

The wound was cleaned with the water and peroxide. The area around the injury he swabbed with the external antiseptic. There was a needle already prepared to a suture in the kit and he was grateful he'd done it in advance as the trembling in his hands was increasing as time went on.

He glanced up to check on her before beginning the actual stitching. Expecting her to have her face turned away in disgust, he was surprised to find her watching him from behind the mask she had forgotten about with a look between curiosity and amazement. Then he turned his attention to finishing the task.

Once he had a square of gauze bandage taped over the sutured wound, he was finally able to expel a long sigh of relief that ended in dry, choked sob. Christine glanced up at the sound, worried, and he had plopped down in a seated position, his legs bent and his elbows propped on his knees. His hands dug into his hair as he fought for silent control.

She reached out her left hand, her arm length falling short of reaching him. He recoiled from her hand like it was a poisonous snake, ready to bite. "I'm sorry, Erik. I'm sorry you had to do that for me."

There was a knock on the door and Erik could have screamed in frustration. Could no one take care of themselves in this town?!

The door swung open to reveal the bald man, now divest of his cloth mask. Erik was on his feet instantly. "Nadir!"

"I have the attacker bound and gagged in the cellar. I thought you might want him alive for questioning."

A look of pure rage passed over Erik's face like a storm cloud before the man revised his previous statement. "Perhaps I will interrogate him with you when the time comes."

"But what are you doing here?" Erik demanded.

"I heard the last Daae standing planned to join this silly little gang war." Nadir shrugged easily, picking at a spot of blood on his white tie. "And from what I saw tonight, she is in dire need of a bodyguard and **unbiased** advisor."

Erik tensed visibly. "That is my position, in case you hadn't noticed."

"So you say," a smile crept across his lips as his dark eyes slid from Erik to Christine and back again. "I'm not quite sure that's exactly what you are, but regardless… Erik, you were never a bodyguard. You're an assassin by profession, a spy occasionally and you are very good at what you do. You are… unaccustomed to the subtle differences in offensive and defensive roles."

"You can't protect someone by power of will alone no matter how hard you try. And no one ever died from having too many advisors, so that can't be the problem."

Erik shot him an acidic look. "As you can plainly see, I managed to dress her wound without your help."

"Yes, but if I had been her bodyguard at the time there would be no wound," Nadir inclined his head toward Christine before leaving. "I will wait for you before questioning our careless assassin."

Once the door was shut, Christine asked from beneath the layer of blanket, "Who was that man? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Friend is such a harsh word," Erik mused darkly. "Rival, perhaps. He was Gustav's bodyguard and assistant. I haven't seen him for weeks."

"If my father had a bodyguard then how did he die?"

"Nadir was away for awhile." Erik replied hesitantly. "The rest is his business."

Christine squirmed in her resting place as if trying to sit up. Her restless wiggling knocked the blanket away from her bare chest and onto the floor. Erik was at her side immediately, holding her shoulders down against the bed. "No. Stay there. You'll reopen your-"

When he looked down at her, one arm shielded her breast while the other grasped around frantically for her blanket or anything to cover herself. A violent blush spread across her face, blossoming down the skin of her neck. He knew she was deathly embarrassed, but for all his self control he could not tear his eyes away from her perfect, beautiful body.

His greedy gaze devoured every inch of exposed flesh, so pale and smooth would probably shine in darkness. His eyes tripped over the large gauze patch strapped to her side and pictured the new, grotesquely stitched alteration to her previously flawless skin hiding behind the bandage. Christine's breath caught in her throat as a look of pure sorrow stole over his open admiration and he brushed a finger along the edge of the gauze. "I'm slowly changing you, little one. I'm draining your beauty bit by bit."

Christine could hardly believe her ears. Arms still crossed over her nakedness, she demanded coldly. "Are you implying that I'm any less beautiful now than I was a few days ago because of a little SCRATCH?"

"It's not just a scratch, it was a gaping wound. And my suturing skills are sorely lacking, so no doubt you'll have a large scar…"

Christine was so angry she ripped off her mask and tore the gauze away from her wound, thankful of the local anesthetic still numbing the area. The stitches ran three inches long across her cut, the skin red and wrinkled from the pressure of the thread holding it closed. "I would rather be scarred than dead. Wouldn't you?"

A sad smile curled the visible side of his lips. "At times, Christine, I'm not so sure."

And then before her eyes, he slowly reached up to the mask covering that dark secret he guarded so vehemently. It fell away from his face, dropping lifeless to the carpet with a glassy ring as he entrusted her with his pain.

Having completely forgotten her nudity, she stretched up to him with a look of incredulous surprise. He stiffened as her warm fingers gently caressed the warped, mangled skin and cupped his half-collapsed cheek. The bones of his skull were so close to the surface of his thin flesh stretched red and irritated. Veins stood out from the veneer of his skin and the scarred tissue trailed down from his face to the right side of his neck. The right side of his nose seemed to have dissolved into a twisted, sunken cavity.

To say Christine was surprised would be an understatement. She was completely shocked at the horror of such a deformity, but her heart and mind had already accepted him. It was just a matter of her body catching up to her, which is why she reflexively reached out to familiarize herself with the damaged part of his face.

Steadying her grip on both sides of his head, she yanked him down to her level. He stared at her in shock, completely baffled that she would want him closer. She smiled shakily as she whispered, "I needed a better look."

When she kissed him, he could have died a happy man.

When there was a knock at the door, he actually groaned out loud and hastily fumbled for his mask. Christine flushed red again as she tried to grab the fallen blanket to no avail. Erik grabbed the mask and blanket at the same time, wrapping her securely under the cover before he placed his mask firmly back on his face.

He stalked to the door and opened it a crack to find Meg's pale, worried face waiting on the other side. His voice was a hoarse growl. "What do you want?"

"Is Christine okay?" she asked, tears glistening in her eyes. "You took her away and there was so much blood… You didn't come back down to let us know if she was-"

"She is fine."

Christine's soft voice floated over from her bed. "Is that Meg?"

That was all the incentive Meg needed to brush passed the formidable man blocking the door in search of her friend. She rushed over to the side of the bed and knelt down. "Christine, you're okay, I'm so glad…"

Meg burst into tears of relief and Christine's eyebrows furrowed in concern, sympathetic tears threatening to escape her own eyes as she ran a hand through Meg's blonde hair. "Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. We're fine."

Frustrated by the intrusion, Erik ran a hand through his black hair before stating, "Meg, since you're here please help Christine put some clothes on. I had to cut her dress away to work on the stitches."

"Stitches?!" Meg gasped and yanked the blanket up to stare at Christine's naked side. Christine squawked in protest and she jammed the blanket back down in place. "Oh, you poor baby, it looks like a rabid dog bit the hell out of you. Don't worry, it'll heal. I can't believe that... that hired thug!"

Erik left them to their talk at that point, as Meg's words had reminded him that he had an assassin to interrogate. Nadir led the way down into the dimly lit basement where their guest was propped against a wall, his hands and feet trussed in a sturdy rope. His mouth was full of the cloth sash that Nadir had recently used as a mask.

Whatever questions they were hoping the man would answer for them would go unsolved for the moment, however. The assassin's throat had been opened with a long, vicious slash, the murder weapon then used to pin a piece of paper to the wooden walls of the cellar above the dead man.

Erik lashed out with a gloved hand, tearing the paper free of the hunting knife. Two words written in bold, red words mocked them: next time.

Crumpling the paper in his fist, he shot Nadir an angry glare as he stomped out of the room. "Great body guarding, Persian. What would we have done without you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the awesome reviews. And hey, more story! Gotta love that. Sara helped me brainstorm ideas for this one, so I blame her.

**Chapter Seven: The Diva and the Weasel**

Erik started to exit the cellar, leaving Nadir to clean up the second assassin's bloody mess.

"Well, now that Christine has me as her bodyguard that frees you to go track down the person responsible for this. You are always going on about how you're some amazing former hit man and master spy. So do your job." Nadir's words stopped Erik in mid step and he turned on him sharply.

"First, you are NOT her bodyguard. I am. And second, if I find out you left her alone for one second, I will kill you," Erik snapped angrily. Nadir continued to peer down at the body, possibly wondering how best to get rid of it. "Hey, I'm serious. I will kill you."

Nadir started toward the corpse only to have a bullet crack into the wall inches from his face, sending tiny splinters of wood flying. Shocked, he stared at Erik with wide, bulging eyes. "Did you just shoot at me?!"

Waving his gun as if punctuating his words with harmless hand motions, Erik explained, "I told you. You didn't look convinced."

"You SHOT at me, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Erik jammed the gun back into its holster as he quirked an eyebrow. "I'm just saying. Death."

Then he turned and exited the cellar, leaving Nadir to gape after him before growling, "Goddamn psychopath."

Erik paused in the main area of the club, staring at the stairs leading up to the second floor rooms. Crippling panic kept him from moving up the steps to check on Christine. His hand reached up instinctively to hide the ruined half of his face even though it was already covered by his mask.

"Is Christine okay?" A worried male voice asked from a few feet beside him.

Erik turned to stare at Raoul in disbelief. "Boy, are you insane? On drugs? Or are you looking for a new pair of cement shoes before your trip to the river?"

Erik's hands twitched in the gloves he wore as he fought to control the urge to strange the handsome young man before him. Raoul stood his ground defiantly, his pale face pinched with worry. Then Erik noticed the red on his hands and shirt and remembered Christine's plea not to hurt him. Gritting his teeth, Erik barely managed to keep from choking the boy. "Get away from me. Madame Giry, take care of him."

Erik started up the stairs only to have Raoul grab him by the shoulder. In a fast, decisive movement, Erik's hand snaked up to wrap around Raoul's neck, the other pulling his gun from the holster at his back. He shoved the barrel of the pistol to Raoul's temple as his fingers dug into his trachea. His index finger itched to squeeze the trigger, such a small action and this pest would be gone from his life.

Forcing himself to exhale a ragged breath, Erik closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head to the side to relax his neck muscles. He carefully lowered the gun from Raoul's head until it hung near his side. It took more control to loosen his fingers from around the blonde man's neck, but Raoul eventually stumbled back coughing. "Leave. Now."

Raoul rubbed at his injured, red throat, but did not move. Erik shot the floor at Raoul's feet, making him jump in surprise. "Do I look like I'm joking with you, son?! GO!"

Erik watched him rush out of the half-empty club. Once Raoul was outside, he glanced back and saw Erik still staring at him with the gun in his hand.

Raoul left without much fuss after that and Erik grumpily holstered the gun. Without further distractions, he returned to the steps, heart sinking as he thought of all the trouble waiting for him when he reached Christine. Sighing, he reasoned she probably wouldn't want to deal with him anymore. He would still watch over her from the shadows as he had done on occasion when she was younger, but it was hard to go back when he knew what he was missing.

He had trudged halfway up the stairs when Meg walked out into the hall. She saw him making his slow, hesitant steps and rolled her eyes. "Hey, hurry up. Christine won't shut up about wanting to see you. She thought you'd left without saying goodbye."

She brushed passed him as she hurried downstairs to help clean. Erik continued his trek to Christine's room and paused outside the door. Meg had left it open an inch and he could see Christine from her place on the bed. She was flat on her back still, an oversized shirt serving as her pajamas. She held a small, furry toy at arm's length, staring up at it.

The cymbal monkey chimed a special tune that made his breath catch. And she was humming along to it with a smile on her lips.

"Don't remember the words?" Erik asked as he finally opened the door and walked inside. She sent him a curious expression and he sang, "Masquerade… paper faces on parade. Masquerade… hide your face so the world will never find you."

Christine gazed at him as he sang the lyrics to a song she hadn't heard since childhood. His voice, normally a full of power and seduction, transformed into a mysterious instrument that held her entranced, barely breathing for fear that the sound would distract from the full enjoyment of his song.

When he trailed to silence, she couldn't help but feel a sudden, aching emptiness. The cymbal monkey had stopped playing as well and the air hung heavy with sadness in the absence of such beauty. He spoke when he realized Christine was about to cry. "I should have known this was too much for you. Please forget about tonight. We'll act like nothing happened. Will you do that for me? Will you forget the horrors I've shown you?"

"Why?" Christine demanded, voice wavering.

"I don't want…" He had to exert tremendous self control to keep from whispering. "Because I shouldn't have shown you."

"It's too late for that, Erik." She watched as his expression grew sad, as if he knew what was coming. "I'm glad that you trusted me enough to show me. Your trust in me is something I treasure."

"And what about my face?"

"Your face is part of who you are, Erik. It is something so deeply ingrained in the person you've become, it has shaped your entire personality. How can I hate it? I've already accepted far worse about you." She said then grinned. "Like your age. I mean, really. Dad much, Erik?"

He looked so dumbfounded by her words that she finally had to add, "No matter how much I try to accept you, it won't matter if you insist on hating yourself."

They lapsed into silence until Christine remembered, "So, did you already find out who the assassin was working for?"

"No. Someone got to him while Nadir's back was turned."

"He's dead then." Christine sighed, rubbing her forehead where a dull headache hammered against her temples. "Oh well. Still, I'm a little worried that Nadir wants to be my bodyguard. He doesn't have the best track record of keeping people alive."

A smirk turned one corner of Erik's lips up as a darkly amused glint came into his eyes. "Don't worry, I've already talked to him. We reached an understanding on the subject of your safety."

Christine waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be done talking about it. "Do you have any idea who could have hired the hit?"

"There are a few leads." Erik replied, glancing at his watch. It was almost time for him to pay his biggest suspect a visit. She would be back in her headquarters soon. After all, it only took thirty minutes to get to Carlotta's base from the nightclub.

Since he was polite, he had given her a little bit longer before he imposed upon her hospitality.

"Christine, I have to go take care of some business. I'll leave some pain killers with Meg for when the anesthesia wears off." Erik said, and was surprised when she reached up her arms expectantly. "What's wrong?"

"You aren't coming back so I'm saying goodnight." She explained, gesturing for him to come closer. He walked across the room hesitantly and knelt down next to the bed. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she held onto him until he had to bend over to allow her a better embrace. "You're really bad at hugging. Damn."

"Oh," he placed one hand on her uninjured side of her waist and raised the other to brush his knuckle against her jaw line. She smiled at him tiredly, eyes already blurry from sleep. He kissed the corner of her lips softly before reaching up to take her hands in his and gently pry them from his shoulders. He placed a kiss on both of her palms and then let her arms drop back down to her sides. "Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well."

"Don't work too hard, Erik," she murmured, already succumbing to the sleep that welled up within her. He watched her eyes droop shut before reluctantly standing to leave. What he would give to lie there with her, holding her close throughout the night, even in sleep.

As he shut the door behind him, he muttered under his breath, "Careful now. Don't get greedy."

The Prima Donna was a casino and hotel in the heart of the downtown area. The old building originated as a whiskey brewery under the disguise of a warehouse owned by simple people who didn't care for the prohibition laws. Carlotta's family made other's indulgences its business.

Erik parked his car himself, ignoring the valet who tried to wave him down as he turned off the main street into the lot beside the building. As he got out of the car, he wondered if his long standing ban from the casino was still in effect. Grinning, he remembered how he had nearly cheated the house out of business in the course of a single night. He had cheated, of course, but they didn't know that. He was very careful when he cheated.

Which is why he was truly affronted when they kicked him out without giving him his money. Carlotta's father had run the establishment at the time and he was just as proud as his daughter. Only he was allow to cheat in his casino.

The valet stared at him as he approached from the lot and ran for the entrance where he exchanged words with the bouncer. The large, muscular man crossed his arms and glanced at the person who had upset the valet. When he saw the masked man striding toward them confidently, he had to lean back against the building to keep from collapsing.

Erik walked right passed their meager attempts to get his attention. The red carpet that ran from the entrance of the casino to the slot machines up front absorbed the sound of his leather shoes. The young woman exchanging money for chips at the counter openly gawked at him, dropping the chips she was counting. He knew where Carlotta would be: the second floor office that looked down across the entire casino floor with its reflective, observation window.

Navigating his way through the crowds of people happy to lose their money, Erik found the red stairs far in the back of the ground floor. Piangi was waiting there for him, still wearing the same gaudy suit from the masquerade party. "Why are you here?"

"I'm surprised at your diva's lack of hospitality for a guest."

"You know you aren't allowed in here."

"I think you are mistaken. I go where I want. And now I am here to speak with Carlotta." Erik ground out from between clenched teeth. "I am very disappointed with her underhanded use of a hit man tonight."

Piangi stared at him in confusion. "Wait, I thought you were a hit man for-"

The look of pure hatred in Erik's eyes shut Piangi's mouth instantly. Voice laced with venom, he said, "I am going to see Carlotta. Move out of my way. I won't say it again."

Piangi thought for a moment before starting up the stairs first. Erik followed behind him, amused that Piangi would turn his back on such a dangerous enemy. Love made people into fools, he realized with grim fascination. He wondered if he too was falling prey to its siren song. He had been unreasonably sloppy these past days.

Well, he had gone into enemy territory alone and without a plan in response to the threat on Christine's life, so he supposed it was safe to say he was the biggest fool in this play.

Carlotta reclined on a spacious couch, her legs propped up on the arm rest as she sipped at a tumbler of gold liquid. She nearly choked on her drink when Piangi held the door open and Erik entered in a swirl of black cloth. Apparently Piangi wasn't the only one who had forgotten to change after the masquerade.

She handed her glass to a nearby assistant as she rose from the comfortable position to stand at full height. He peered at her from behind that insufferable mask, the left half of his face just as blank as the glass covering the right. "Well? What brings you to my neck of the woods, Phantom? Shouldn't you be tending to your poor, little bird?"

No reaction. He reached calmly into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "An assassin tried to kill Christine tonight. Then another assassin killed the one that we caught and left this note in blood."

"Madame Giry's is a hot bed of activity nowadays," Carlotta stifled a yawn with her delicately manicured hand. "But how does it relate to me?"

"There are only so many people in the mafia conceited enough to think I won't kill them, Carlotta." A dark, lethal look flashed across his face then and she had the decently to pale considerably. "You are one of them. And I know you want Christine dead. She reminds you too much of Elizabeth. You fear her potential."

"You insult me," Carlotta snapped, amusing Erik immensely. "Why would I do such a stupid thing right after arguing with the girl in public? That would just pin me as a suspect. No, these crude tactics are best left to those imbeciles working for Firmin."

Carlotta paused before adding, "Not everyone keeps a personal hit man at their beck and call, Phantom. Elizabeth knew how to manipulate you splendidly, but then, she did learn from the best."

He forced himself to keep his face blank, unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was icy and he pointedly ignored her comment. "Firmin then. If you'll excuse me, I have to track down a weasel."

As he left, Carlotta's voice floated after him, "Oh, if you're looking for Firmin, his gang frequents the dock warehouses. I've heard they have itchy trigger fingers, so try not to be seen if you value your life. I'd hate to see your little princess lose her favorite heirloom."

Erik couldn't leave the casino fast enough. He was exhausted, but at least he had another lead to follow. An ache was working up his spine, making his shoulders and neck stiff to the point of excruciating pain. To make matters worse, Carlotta's taunts still rang clearly in his head, throwing his emotions off balance. He didn't trust himself not to kill Firmin if he met him in his current state, so it would have to wait.

By the time he reached his Buick, all Erik wanted to do was crawl back to Christine and fall asleep beside her listening to the quiet sounds of the night. Ever a realist, he settled with getting into his car and driving back to his basement room under the Opera House to get a few hours of fitful sleep alone.

The docks were more depressing in the harsh light of day than Erik ever remembered them being at night.

A series of rickety piers stood in what was left of the once proud marina. Various, rusting fishing boats and clunky shipping freighters floated at the metal and wood docks, the laborers in a constant frenzy of loading and unloading the goods to nearby warehouses. The warehouses were simple, brick and metal structures built to resemble large sheds. They were single room studios that houses giant wooden crates before they could be loaded onto trucks and taken to their final destinations.

One warehouse with the named FIRMIN CO. stenciled in blocky blue letters along one brick wall outside served as both warehouse and headquarters for Firmin's small time gang. Erik slipped undetected through a smaller office door while the men distracted themselves with the chaos of moving a large shipment in through the shipping entrance.

A skinny, jittery man sat behind a desk in the small office, enjoying the air-conditioner while his gang slaved away with menial labor in the afternoon sun. Even the combined reek of rotting fish and polluted water failed to penetrate the soothing confines of the office. Erik watched Firmin scribble heatedly at a document for a few moments, wondering when the weasel man would notice him standing in plain view.

Finally, he sighed, "I could have killed you several times by now, Firmin. Pay attention."

Firmin jumped in his seat, hitting his knees against the bottom of his desk painfully. He winced and rubbed at his legs. "W-What are you doing here?! How did you get in? The door was locked!"

Erik held both hands up and wiggled his fingers. "Magic. But don't worry. I locked it behind myself. Wouldn't want someone to barge in and interrupt us."

Firmin leaned back as Erik walked forward, trying to put more distance between them. Erik paused halfway to the smaller man's desk. Something was wrong here.

He took another step forward and Firmin began trembling uncontrollably. He stomped on the ground and Firmin nearly pissed his pants, a whimper of fear escaping his lips. Sighing, Erik threw his hands up in frustration and Firming actually dove under the desk for cover. Eyeing the desk, Erik barked, "You didn't order a hit on Christine Daae. You probably can't even order anyone to do ANYTHING. This is a waste of time."

One hand reached up cautiously to grip the edge of the desk and Firmin slowly pulled himself up. "N-no… why would I want to kill that girl?"

"Because she's going to rule this entire area one day, if all goes according to plan. What respectable member of the mafia would willingly submit to the rule of another?"

"That's true, but I'm just a businessman. I don't want to rule over the whole area. My first concern is making money and Miss Daae's family made my job easier. Her father was a strict regulator of drug traffic in this city. The drug draught boosted my profits immensely." Firmin slowly retrieved his office chair, which had fallen backward. "If anything, I owe Miss Daae for my current financial stability."

A slow, humorless smile spread across Erik's lips as he remembered his conversation with Carlotta the night before and Firmin stared in terror. "Oh, she thinks she's so smart."

A knock on the door brought Erik back to his senses. Casting one last, long look at the tiny man in the faded business suit, he turned to leave. "I won't take up anymore of your time, Firmin. If I find out you lied to me, your life is forfeit."

Erik unlatched the office door and stepped back to allow the new person to enter. Raoul froze in place, shocked to find Erik in his boss's office. Erik glared at the young man, anger rising fast.

Raoul slammed passed Erik into the room and heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing Firmin unharmed. "Boss, what's the Phantom doing here?"

"Shut up, boy," Firmin replied hastily. "Do you want to die?!"

From his place at the door, Erik asked in a mockingly congenial voice, "Now, what I want to know is this: what does a member of Firmin's gang want with Christine Daae?"

Raoul frowned, obviously trying to come up with a convincing lie. Finally, he admitted reluctantly, "What does any man want with a lady from Madame Giry's?"

Erik slammed the door and locked it again, whirling on Raoul with a look of fury on his half masked face. "I must have misunderstood you. My hearing isn't what it used to be. Did you just call her a whore?"

"Your words, not mine." Raoul replied calmly. "But it's as good a word as any for a woman of her profession."

Before Erik could reach for his gun, Firmin grabbed Raoul by his ponytail and yanked him down to eye level. "Son, you are in for a world of hurt once our guest is gone. Now, if you value your life, then DON'T DISOBEY ME AGAIN."

Firmin shoved Raoul hard and he stumbled into the wall behind him for support, rubbing at his scalp. The tension was still high, but Erik was now in control enough to resist shooting the boy. Nodding once to Firmin, Erik stormed out of the office, leaving the putrid docks behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Got nothing to say. Enjoy.

**Chapter Eight: Sex Ed.**

The nightclub was noisy and lively, with loud music thumping from the speakers overhead and couples swaying together on the dance floor. Christine watched with envy as Meg playfully escorted an attractive man to a table in the back. Why did Meg get to have fun and while she sulked in a corner? As if in answer to her question, a twinge of pain shot through her side as she squirmed in her seat.

She cast an irritated glower at the formidable man towering behind her with his arms crossed. If any guys in the club were interested in her, they wouldn't be once they saw Nadir with his sunglasses and goatee frowning in their direction. "You know, Nadir, the sunglasses are a bit much. Not only is it nighttime, we're also inside."

He peered over the frames of his sunglasses at her and smirked. "Who said they're just glasses?"

Christine sat up straight, careful of her hurt side, staring at the dark glasses on his face. "What else can they do?"

"They're also a camera."

"Awesome, like a spy?!"

"Just like." Nadir grinned at her and took them off so she could see them.

"You rock, Nadir." She put the large sunglasses on and they slid to the bridge of her nose as she scanned the room. Erik had just entered and was ignoring the seductive purrs of the women tending the doors. He was surprised to find Christine beaming at him from behind an enormous pair of Ray Bans across the room.

He made his way toward them as she handed Nadir the glasses back. "Thanks. Those are pretty cool."

Nadir slipped the glasses back on his face and continued to stand watch like a wary mastiff from his place behind Christine. Erik sighed and stared at him with flat, tired eyes. "Take five, Nadir."

Just then, a slender barmaid in a slinky, black dress sauntered in front of them and caught Nadir's eyes. A slow, appreciative grin spread across his tanned face as the woman giggled and sent him a coy look. He took off after her at a leisurely pace. "Don't mind if I do."

Erik watched Nadir walk away and rolled his eyes, all but collapsing into the seat next to Christine. His back was slumped and she leaned into him, offering her shoulder. "You should relax too, Erik. It looks like someone took you out back and put the boot to you."

Slowly, afraid she would changer her mind and get mad at him, he leaned against her, placing his head on her shoulder. A quiet breath escaped his lips as the tension drained from his body, replaced with a warm, light feeling. When she spoke, his eyes snapped open and he was surprised to find he had almost drifted to sleep. "Nadir took me out shooting today and guess what? Yeah, I hit the bull's eye like TEN TIMES. He's a really good teacher, never yelled at me or anything."

"Then we went shopping and he told me the funniest joke. The best part was when he came with me to go bra and underwear shopping. He's got great opinions on lingerie." Erik's head flew up instantly and he stared at her in shock. "What?"

"You went shopping for lingerie?! With him?!" Erik demanded in a high pitched whisper, eyes darting to check on Nadir. At the moment, the bodyguard was flexing his left arm for the woman he was flirting with.

"Well, he said that he couldn't leave me alone for a second." Christine said hesitantly. "I mean, I put my foot down when he tried to go in the dressing room with me…"

Erik's jaw dropped open. "I'm going to kill the bastard."

As he started to stand, Christine quickly latched onto one of his arms. "Oh, come on, Erik… Don't be that way. I missed you all day. Besides, it's not like I was buying the lingerie for Nadir anyway."

All thoughts of killing Nadir poofed out of his brain at her last statement. Amused at his expression of pure disbelief, she said, "I'll show you once I'm better."

"I can't see them now?" he asked, slightly disappointed. He was gazing at the stairs leading up to her room longingly.

"Not yet. Besides, looking is only half the fun. The other half is taking it off." She ran the tips of her fingers along the visible side of his jaw, peering up at him through her long lashes. "And I'm afraid that part's a little too hands on for me right now, what with my wound and all."

His eyes drooped shut and a delicious shiver broke through his self-control. As her hands trailed down from his face, she reached out and caressed the right side of his neck. The skin there was warped like the right half of his face, though at first glance one might overlook it as a slight scarring.

When her hands touched the mangled scarring on his neck with a gentle, loving caress, he would have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her away if he hadn't remembered the recent attack. His hands darted out to wrap around her waist only to hover a few inches away. Balling his hands into fists, he pressed his forehead against hers and muttered in a strained voice, "Christine, can you walk?"

"Wha?" Her red, tempting lips parted in confusion as she peered up at him with those beautiful, brown eyes. Eyes fixed only on him, full of unbridled emotion despite all the horror he had shown her. Complete acceptance. Love.

Erik withdrew his hands and slid away from her on the seat as he took a deep, shaky breath. "It's hot in here… Would you go get me something to drink?"

"But-"

"Christine, please!" He managed between clenched teeth. She jolted in place and fixed him with a wounded look. "Please. I just need to be alone for a minute. I'm very tired."

She winced at the pain in her side as she forced herself to her feet. "I don't understand you, Erik. You know how I feel, I've made that clear. But you… you're hot one second, cold the next."

With that, she started walking away slowly, tenderly. When she pressed one hand to her injured side, he realized his mistake. She had been sitting by herself all night for a reason.

He got to his feet to help her walk back to her room, but when he placed a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged him off. "I can at least WALK by myself. I'm not a child."

She left him standing dumbly in place, watching her walk carefully up the stairs. Once she was safely in her room, he turned to leave and nearly ran into Nadir. "So, even the Phantom has trouble with the ladies?"

"You." Erik's confusion and sadness quickly transformed into a burning anger when he remembered Christine's account of her day with Nadir. "You horny bastard. _Lingerie shopping_, Nadir?"

The other man shrugged his broad shoulders dismissively. "She needed girl things. I needed to keep an eye on her. It was a win-win situation."

"Following her into a changing room? I'm sure that was a winning situation as well." Erik growled, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"What man wouldn't want to see that woman naked?"

"You're not making a good case for yourself, Persian."

"I'm a simple, honest man. I have desires and most of the time I get what I want." Nadir stated, taking off his sunglasses and slipping them into the inside pocket of his suit. "You could probably learn something from me, Erik. How long has it been since you last-"

"Christ, I'm not talking about this with you." Erik snapped as he stalked toward the door. Realization dawned on Nadir as he stared after him and quickly caught up to him before he could escape out the door.

"You've never had sex, have you?" Nadir whispered in an urgent, amused tone.

"NO, I haven't! If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly pick of the litter, Nadir!"

"What about a prostitute? There are plenty of them around here. Surely you've been tempted to pay for their business?"

They were now standing outside the entrance. Erik was avidly seeking a way to shake Nadir off, but the other man was now quite firmly entrenched in the conversation. "I don't… prostitutes creep me out, okay?!"

"Why? They're just women."

"They're not JUST women… they're sneaky, manipulative… they're smarter than people give them credit for."

Nadir eyed him questioningly. "You seem to know a lot about prostitutes for someone who's never slept with one."

Erik was even more tired than when he arrived and all he wanted was to go sleep for a day or two. Sighing heavily, he motioned to the door with bother hands and said, "Look, Nadir. You're a good bodyguard. Stick to that. In fact, Christine's probably alone in her room right now. How easy is it to climb in through a second story window? I know I've done it before."

"Fine, I'll check on her." Nadir started back to the door, pausing to say over his shoulder, "But seriously, Erik. You need to have sex BAD. Look at you, all wound up like a damn Jack in the box. No wonder you're such a crazy fuck."

Before Erik could reach for his gun, Nadir hurried back into the safety of the nightclub.

Because of her injury, Christine got to skip out on cleaning duty the next morning and took the chance to corner Madame Giry in her office. She knocked on the door hesitantly, and the older woman eventually let her in. "Christine, how're you feeling today?"

Christine walked into the office and left Nadir to stand watch outside the door as she entered. "I was wondering if you could tell me some more about my mother and Erik. What kind of relationship they had."

Giry walked back to her desk and sat down, gesturing for Christine to have a seat on the small chair in front of her. Grateful for the rest, Christine slid into the seat, careful to avoid jarring her healing wound. "Why are you interested in their relationship? Your mother is dead and it seems as though you and Erik are getting along well enough."

"I know, but… I just have the feeling that something's not right. I keep hearing all these good things about her, and yet she has so many enemies… Carlotta was supposedly her best friend and something happened between them bad enough to make her hate my mom." Christine explained, sorting out conflicting facts in her head as she went. Finally, she added, "Plus… she wasn't perfect. Something was wrong or else she wouldn't have killed herself. A mentally healthy person wouldn't commit suicide."

"It may have been depression," Madame Giry offered, hands making a pyramid on her desk as she regarded Christine thoughtfully. Christine stared at her, resolve set in her eyes and posture. Sighing, Giry reached into her pocket and pulled a ring of keys out. She flicked through them until she found the one she wanted and removed it from the metal ring. "Honestly, dear, Erik and Elizabeth had a strange relationship. Most of the time, I couldn't tell if she loved or hated him. If it was love, it wasn't physical."

"Here," she got up and pressed the key into Christine's waiting hand. "In the cellar, you'll find a small box your mother left here when she got married to your father. I don't remember exactly, but I think she might have left one of her journals in it. She was always putting ideas down on paper. If it's there, it should help you to better understand her."

Nadir was still leaning against the wall outside when Christine exited the office, slipping the key into her pocket. "Find out anything useful?"

"Not yet," Christine admitted as she walked to the cellar. The air in the cramped, dark room reeked of strong disinfectants and she nearly gagged from the stink. Nadir started to shut the door behind them, but she stopped him. "No, leave it open. It smells like someone died in here!"

"Well, yeah," he replied, plopped down on the top step leading into the cellar.

"So clever," She gave him a sarcastic expression as she searched for her mother's belongings. An old fashioned, cream colored suitcase stood out from its place propped up against a pile of cardboard boxes. Christine moved closer to inspect it and found it was labeled with cursive embroidery. Violet thread sewn into the off-white leather. Liz.

A built in lock kept the suitcase closed securely. Christine's heart pounded against her ribs as she fumbled with the key, almost dropping it as she inserted it into the lock. The suitcase clicked open with a quick twist of the key.

Christine sat on the floor of the cellar, rifling through the papers and memorabilia in the suitcase. Old photographs, loose sheets of paper…

On the bottom of the suitcase was a single rose, dried, pressed, and shriveled from age. When first received, it must have been a beautiful, dark red, but now it was rusty brown mixed with black: the color of old blood. She refused to touch it, afraid it would crumble to dust in her fingers. Instead, she picked up the 3X5 inch, leather bound pocket journal resting beside the decaying flower.

When she flipped through the journal, a loose photo fell from the pages and floated to the ground. Picking it up, Christine noticed it was folded in half. A woman with black, wavy hair was hugging a young girl with a quiet smile on her face. The girl was grinning at the camera, her curly brown hair framing her face in a wild bob. The older woman was pale, with dark, familiar eyes too vivid for a photograph.

Christine carefully unfolded the glossy paper to see the other half of the scene. A tall boy, roughly the same age as the girl, stood off to the side, eyes focused on the woman and girl a few feet away. A white, porcelain mask concealed the right half of the child's face, but his expression was one of obvious yearning. Turning the photo over in her hands, Christine confirmed her suspicions. On the back in black marker, it said, "Liz and Madeleine."

On the back of the half showing the masked child, written in a different, childish handwriting was the name, "Erik."

Christine shoved the photo back into the journal and hastily locked the suitcase. She pocketed the small journal and got to her feet to leave. Nadir stood and moved aside to let her exit. "I'm going up to my room, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll wait outside the door, Boss."

Christine rushed up the stairs to the second floor as fast as possible, a thrill of anticipation shooting through her. She almost tripped over her own feet and she had to grab the banister to keep from falling on her face. The sudden movement jerked the tender spot on her side, sending sparks dancing in front of her eyes as she paused to catch her breath. Once the pain subsided, she continued to her room and took out the journal.

Sitting gingerly on her bed, she flipped through the pages filled with flowing handwriting, a fluid mix of cursive and normal letters. She turned to a random date near the middle of the journal and read.

_Madeleine and I went out to the docks today to speak to Firmin. On the way, we ran into a handsome man named Daae and he asked if we were from Madame Giry's. It was obvious he was interested in me by the way he kept staring when he thought I wasn't paying attention. But Maddy taught me to always pay attention when they're around. He'll probably come bother me during work tonight._

_Oh, Erik followed us, but kept hiding when we tried to catch him. Maddy insists he was there and to ignore him or else he wouldn't go away. I never saw him myself._

The next entry read:

_Gustav Daae is apparently a big deal in this town. His name carries a lot of power and he's heard of me, too. While I was dancing with him, Erik sat and stared from the other side of the room. Gustav isn't afraid of Erik, most men would have left me stranded on the dance floor when they saw the Phantom glaring at them. When Daae asked me to go home with him, Erik threw a fit and I had to decline._

_I swear, sometimes it's hard remembering why I keep him around._

Christine shut the journal with a decisive slap. The pressure building in her chest squeezed the air from her lungs as she gripped the cover of the journal hard. The folded photo, the way Elizabeth wrote about Erik in the two entries she'd read- these things lead her to one possible conclusion. Elizabeth wasn't nearly as nice or as happy as Erik believed.

She hid the horrible little book under her pillow and stood up. Why had she wanted to know these things? All it did was plant tiny seeds of doubt and sadness in her mind. If her parents were this two-faced, who could she trust?

_Erik,_ her thoughts drift to him easily, curling up in her memory of his rare smile. He always smiled like it was new to him and slightly embarrassing. He would never want to betray her. Ironic, considering most of the women in his life had betrayed him.

"Christine," Meg shoved through the door into the bedroom, panting for breath. "That guy's back. He's saying he needs to talk to you and he won't leave. If you don't hurry, Nadir's going to snap him in half."

With Meg's help, Christine got back down the stairs and out the entrance of the club just as Nadir grabbed Raoul by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Christine darted forward to place one hand on Nadir's arm. "Wait. He's my friend, even if he is horribly stupid."

Nadir slowly dropped his hand and Raoul stumbled back a step before catching himself. Christine noticed the painful, ring of bruises decorating his left eye socket and the swollen cut on his upper lip. "Wow, someone finally beat the shit out of you, huh? Come on, we'll talk behind the club."

Christine and Raoul walked to the vacant lot on the other side of the nightclub while Nadir followed at a reasonable distance. "What do you have to tell me that's so important?"

Raoul hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Erik went looking for Firmin yesterday afternoon."

"And?"

"Well, he ran into me too. Working in Firmin's gang is my cover for this operation."

Christine cringed as a myriad of possible scenarios crashed into her mind at once. "So Erik gave you that black eye?"

"No," Raoul muttered, slumping his shoulders. "But I would have deserved it."

Slapping her palm against her forehead, Christine dared to venture, "What did you do this time?"

"He was asking questions that could have blown my cover… I improvised. And I think I made things worse."

"What did you say?"

"He wanted to know why I was hounding you at the club. I'm technically a lackey in Firmin's gang and not fit to talk to a daughter of one of the mafia's head couples." He paused before continuing in a quiet voice. "I kinda said I was paying you for sex."

"Are you serious?" Christine demanded, surprised. He nodded and she groaned inwardly. "Of course you are. Why are you even here? Why do you keep coming back when you KNOW Erik wants to kill you so badly? Especially now!"

"Why? Do you think he knows I'm a cop?"

"No, Raoul! He probably thinks you're in love with me and it's making him all kinds of crazy!" Christine snapped, waving a fist at him.

"Oh." This statement seemed to please him. "Well, yeah, that's true."

"Come again?" She let her hands fall to her sides weakly.

"I'm in love with you. I have been since we were kids." He shrugged his shoulders under his faded, red T-shirt. Casual clothes weren't normally seen around the Madame's club.

Christine grabbed him by his shirt and shook hard, his head whipped forward from the movement. "You do NOT love me! You don't even know me! Last time we talked, we were both, like, 12 or something! So PLEASE, just stop with all this! I already have to deal with one crazy man who doesn't know what he wants; I don't need you adding to that!"

She spun on her heel and stomped back into Madame Giry's. Nadir leaned close as she walked passed and said, "Erik just got here in time to witness the last part of your little spat."

"What? Where is he?" Christine glanced around the club. "Why would he be here so early? It's not even noon yet."

After a few more minutes of scanning the various parts of the club, she found him holed away in a dark, lonely table in the back corner of the bar. She stood in front of him and he stared blankly up at her. "Hey, Erik. What brings you here in the light of day?"

Tapping his fingers briefly on the tabletop, he shrugged and looked away pointedly. "I wanted to surprise you. I was hoping we could go get something to eat, but I suddenly remembered I have something to do."

When he started to stand, she shoved him back down onto his seat and sat on his lap, throwing her arms around his shoulders. "What are you pissy about today?"

He held completely still, hands dangling at his sides. He craned his neck so he didn't have to watch her pout. She leaned closer and pressed her lips to his chin. "Are you angry about what Raoul said?"

A tremor of rage shook through his body. It was all the reply she needed. "Erik, do you trust me? I know it's hard… considering how Madeleine and my mom treated you."

That got his attention. He stared down at her through dark, narrowed eyes as she explained, "I found my mom's old journal. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I read enough to get the idea. They were both very manipulative people."

"If you know, why would you go out of the way to meet with that boy behind my back?" The tension between them was like a string pulled taut, quivering about to snap.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I want you to control me," she said, slipping her arms from his shoulders. When she moved to stand up, he circled his arms around her, holding her in place and pressed his face to her shoulder. She worked her slender fingers through the back of his hair, letting the short strands tickle her skin.

"I already said that Raoul is just a friend and informant," she whispered into his ear, brushing a stray hair away from his face, trailing a nail down his neck. "But have I told you what you are, Erik?"

"You're the only man I want by my side. You're the one I trust the most." She tried to look him in the eyes, but he hid his face from her by pressing his forehead against her shoulder. "You're the only one I know who hasn't lied to me or tried to hurt me. And I never want to betray you either."

They lapsed into a long silence. Christine wondered if he had heard and understood what her words meant. When she opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, he looked up and asked in a hoarse voice, "So. Are you sure you're all done with your bra shopping?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** After much deliberation and a particularly interesting review from Nyasia A. Maire, I got a direction! So thanks for all the inspirational reviews everybody! Also, since final projects are fast approaching, my updates might be spaced out until summer break. I only have four weeks left of school until I'm free! For a little while, anyway…

**Chapter Nine: Luck of the Draw**

Christine, Nadir, and Meg were seated at the bar counter down in the main portion of the club the next afternoon playing cards to pass the time until opening. When a man in a black and white pinstripe suit and black Fedora walked through the entrance, Meg waved at him and said without glancing at him, "Club's not open yet. Come back in a few hours and I'll show you a good time."

"Tempting, but no. I'm looking for Miss Christine Annabelle Daae."

Nadir looked up from his hand to scrutinize the newcomer only to grin widely and throw his cards face-down. "Jonesy! You bastard! What're you doing in town?"

While Nadir was distracted by the man, Christine reached over to peek at his hand of cards. Meg smirked and nodded at her.

"Business, Persian, always business."

"You work too much," Nadir laughed, patting him on the back a little too hard. The skinnier, smaller man grimaced with the action and stood up straighter.

"Some of us can't whore out our muscles, so we have to make money the old-fashioned way," Jonesy turned his attention to Christine, who was peering at Nadir's discarded hand sneakily. He held his palm out to her in greeting. "Miss Daae, my name is-"

"BARTLEBY JONES!" Erik's voice boomed throughout the room. He was returning from the bathroom, having been thrown out of the card game for a suspiciously long winning streak. The yell surprised Christine and she dropped her ill-gotten hand of cards scattering them across the counter. "Why is he here? Did someone get hurt? Is he ambulance chasing again?"

"Hey," Jonesy grumbled, gripping his briefcase defensively. "I haven't done that in a long time. I'm here on legitimate business for Miss Daae."

"Is that your real name?" Christine reached out to accept his hand. "Wasn't that a song?"

"Yes… well," Jonesy shook her hand then stepped back, fixing his green tie. "I don't give out my real name when I'm handling mafia jobs."

"A bonafide mafia lawyer," she mused, nudging a card with her finger. "You guys have your own little community going. Doctors, lawyers, what's next? Mafia real estate agents?"

"Your parents did own quite a bit of property, Miss Daae. Which is one of the reasons I'm here," he sat down at a bar stool next to her and set the briefcase on the counter. He pressed the buttons and it clicked open. Inside was a thin, blue folder. "Gustav and Elizabeth Daae's joint will. I flew all the way from New York to handle this personally."

He handed her the folder and she opened it to reveal a series of typed, orderly papers complete with signatures at the bottom. The sheer amount of words, all typed in size 10 font, was overwhelming. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and began to slug through the sea of text.

"Not a reader, huh?" Jonesy chuckled. "That's fine, I'll give you the fast and easy version and you can skim through the fine print as it suits you. You must have noticed after your mother's death that there were no official inheritance procedures to divvy up her belongings. That was because your parents chose to have a joint will, where you would inherit all their worldly belongings once they were both deceased. Since your father was still alive until a few weeks ago, your livelihood came through his kindness."

Talking about her father's death brought tears to her eyes and she stubbornly fought to control herself. No matter how much she insisted he was a bad man, she couldn't hate him. He was a good father and loved her deeply in his own way. He honestly believed he was doing her a favor by keeping her oblivious to the world she came from.

"As for just how much you are inheriting… my sources tell me you were unaware of what your parents' did for a living until just recently."

"I know now, but it's still sort of hazy. I guess, financially, they'd be on the scale of Carlotta, right?"

A choked, surprise laugh escaped from Meg's direction and she quickly covered her mouth. Christine glanced at her in confusion, while Jonesy sighed. "Carlotta… I'm assuming you're talking about one of the area bosses? Yes, well, Carlotta's total holdings amount to about…" He paused to calculate the numbers in his head before continuing, "15 of your parents' joint wealth. Rough estimate, you understand."

"But… Carlotta owns a casino. And a hotel. Surely that makes good money." Christine stated, brain unable to wrap around the idea of being the richest woman in the state.

"I'm sure she doesn't want for anything, her businesses take care of her quite comfortably," Jonesy assured Christine with a smile that reminded her of a shark. "You, however, are in a completely different income bracket."

Leaving Christine to gape dumbly at him, he fished around in his pocket until he removed a ring of keys and held them out to her. "Okay, so, I color coded the keys. There are ten of them and each one has a different colored dot. In the will, you'll find the color code that tells you the location of your homes and buildings…"

"Homes? Plural?"

"Right. There's the home here, which I would advise you to sell since someone," he pointed glanced at Erik, "decided to shoot a man in the living room. Cut all connections with the home and make some more money. You could buy a new one someone nearby on that alone. Three even."

"You just broke my brain," Christine said, lip quirked and one eyebrow furrowed in an expression of complete bewilderment. "Don't I have to stay at Madame Giry's?"

"Hey, I'm just saying, if I had a choice between my own luxury home and a tiny, shared bedroom above a nightclub, I'd obviously choose the nice house. But that's me. Apparently, I make too much sense for this lifestyle."

Nadir leaned forward and offered, "You gonna tell her about the base?"

"What base?" Christine latched onto his words with renewed energy.

"You've seen the skyscraper in the middle of downtown?"

"Of course. It's the only building in town that big."

"Yellow."

"What?" Christine asked, her shaky grasp of the conversation lost once again.

He pointed to the keys in her hands. "The yellow one gets you into your penthouse office at the top floor. The whole building's yours. More precisely, it's the headquarters of G.D. Enterprises, named after your father. I believe your parents' henchmen have continued working in preparation for your arrival since your father's death."

"They sent me as a representative to watch over you until you found out," Nadir stated helpfully.

"So, as you can see, your parents left you with a world of options. If you're feeling up to it, I can escort you to the office now, since it's just a few blocks away." Jonesy stood up and shut the briefcase. He took in her current appearance: faded, comfortable jeans and a loose T-shirt, before saying, "Perhaps you have something more formal to wear? You'll want to make a good first impression with your subordinates."

Christine swung wide, pathetic eyes to Erik, who looked slightly alarmed that she had turned to him for help. He quickly regained his composure and offered her his hand. "Yes, well, come on."

They went to her room and he pulled out the duffel bag from under the bed, rifling through its contents. "Don't you own a business suit? Or a skirt and blazer outfit?"

Christine shook her head as she rummaged through the closet she shared with Meg. "No, I never really needed one before. I mean, I was studying art at the state college, so it's not like I ever had to dress up for a presentation."

"Art," he muttered under his breath. "I can't believe your father. How is art supposed to help you run a global conglomerate?"

"A what in the what now?" Christine threw a pointed glare over her shoulder at the masked man searching under her bed for loose clothing. "Don't start with me, Erik. I'm not in a good mood."

"I don't see why not. You just inherited more money than I've ever seen in my life."

"Well, then, it must be a lot, since you're the oldest guy I know." Christine crossed her arms, realizing there was nothing helpful in the closet. Her voice was shaking from anger and confusion. Erik crossed the room quietly and slipped his arms around her from behind.

"You're doing fine, Christine," he murmured into her ear, leaning over to rest his chin on her shoulder. "Just breathe."

"But I don't have anything to wear besides… hooker dresses!" She sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

"We'll get you a suit on the way. Don't cry," he rocked gently from side to side with his arms around her, trying to comfort her.

"It's too much, Erik." She gripped his sleeves with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "I don't know if I can do it alone. You're right; I'm not prepared for this."

"Don't worry about that. I'm a grouchy old man, remember? Probably senile too. Don't know what I'm talking about half the time." He said jokingly, surprising a laugh out of her.

"Cradle robber," she added in a watery laugh. He dropped his arms and stepped back.

"Yes, yes. Make fun of the remorseless killer." he sighed, rummaging in his pockets for handkerchief. He found one and pressed it into her hands. "Make yourself presentable, woman. I'll tell the others we'll meet them at the office."

"Why?"

"I can't let the heiress to a multinational corporation make her debut in jeans. You have a reputation to uphold."

Ignoring Nadir's insistence that he accompany Erik and Christine to the upscale women's clothing shop, they parted ways to find something nice and businesslike for Christine to wear. When they met drove to the building forty minutes later, Christine was confidently wearing her new, burgundy business skirt set. She had wanted a plain, black suit, but once Erik saw the deep red skirt, it was game over. He had gazed at her longingly and then peered over at the mannequin dressed in the outfit, as if trying to imagine her wearing it.

As they walked through the revolving glass doors, Christine asked Erik quietly, "So. Red's your favorite color then? Most of your ties are this color."

She glanced over at him to make sure and smiled. "We match."

He looked away, not saying anything. If it were possible, she would have sworn he was embarrassed. Nadir was standing at the front desk talking to the female receptionist who was blushing and grinning in reply. Jonesy waved them over. The receptionist glanced at the new arrivals and leapt to her feet as if shocked. "Miss Daae!"

"Hello and you are?" Christine smiled at the woman, easily ten years older than her. The receptionist smoothed her suit and leaned forward to shake hands with Christine.

"O-oh, my name's Monika Morrison, I'm the receptionist," she fumbled over her words before blushing again. "But that's obvious. Welcome to Gustav Daae Enterprises, Miss Daae. Nadir knows the way to the elevator and-"

Monika's gaze rested on the tall, masked man behind Christine for the first time. Her face visibly paled and she clamped her lips tightly shut. Erik's reputation preceded him. Christine followed the woman's frightened gaze and found Erik staring at her expressionlessly. A mouse eyed by a well-fed snake.

"He's a looker, isn't he?" Christine asked, wrapping her arm through Erik's as she nodded to the receptionist. "See you, Monika. Let's go, boys."

As soon as they were out of the receptionist's sight, Christine patted Erik's arm and let him go. The elevator loomed into view, a majestic machine of spotless steel and glass. "Wow, look at that. How high does this building go?"

They piled into the elevator and Jonesy leaned over to press the button next to the number 41. "The building is approximately 450 feet tall. There are 41 floors total, your office takes up the entire 41st floor."

Christine pressed her hands against a glass-wall and watched as the floors sped by one after the next. She hurried to the exterior wall and saw the sidewalk fall away as the elevator climbed toward the top of the skyscraper. "That's amazing."

"Each floor is an entire department dedicated to various aspects of the company. Since G. D. Enterprises deals in both legal and illegal transactions, about half of your employees are Mafioso." Jonesy stated, not bothering to glance out the glass. "Needless to say, half is enough. Your men outnumber every other crime syndicate in the state."

A chime announced their arrival on the 41st floor and Nadir stepped out into the hallway leading to a pair of ornately carved double doors. They waited for Christine to unlock the doors with her key. She opened the door and peered inside.

The office was spacious, with a large, rounded rectangular conference table in the middle of a dark blue carpet, dark wood walls and a giant, flat panel display screen capable of descending from the ceiling. Passed the conference table was a beautiful, shiny desk and a black leather swivel chair that put even Erik's awesome villain's chair to shame.

Christine wandered to the window that took up a good portion of one wall, overlooking the entire city. Expensive art work decorated each wall in the room and Christine noticed one of her own paintings on the wall behind the desk. It was a self-portrait she had painted for a final project in one of her art classes years prior. Needless to say, it wasn't her best piece and it both humiliated and pleased her that her father would hang it in a place of honor. "Yeah, that's coming down as soon as possible."

Erik gazed at it with a smile on his face. "Good to know those art classes aren't going to waste."

"Aw, don't take it down," Nadir said as Christine reached up to grab the frame. "Your dad loved looking at that. It always made him smile."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult," Christine grumbled under her breath, but left the painting up for the moment. She turned to survey the room once more and her eyes rested on the sleek, black desk. It gleamed under the florescent lights. She couldn't look away from its smooth, elegant surface. Slapping her hand down on the desktop, she announced, "See this desk? I'm gonna have sex on this nice, big desk."

They all stared at her as if she were insane. Nadir burst out laughing and Jonesy shook his head, "Lady, it's yours. Have sex TWICE on it for all I care."

Erik walked over to examine the desk, hesitantly touching the glossy surface. "Uh, so. This is a really nice-looking desk… apparently good... to do things on."

Jonesy eyed him as if he were insane before replying, "So I'm led to believe."

"Oh, poor, sad Erik! Some hot, young girl wants to have sex with you on a desk. Such misery," Nadir gasped between bouts of laughter. "I don't know how you survive this horrible life you live."

Christine grinned at Nadir and then locked eyes with Erik. "I'm not picky. I'll take the floor if the desk makes you uncomfortable."

"Yes, well." Erik realized that Nadir and Christine were about to gang up on him and took that as his cue to take a walk. He strode out of the room to hide his frustration and awkwardness. The door shut loudly behind him.

Turning to Nadir, Christine held her hands palm up in confusion as she climbed onto the desk to sit. "Seriously, why'd he leave? I'm not joking."

Nadir shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Who knows? He's a crazy man. A very deadly, crazy man."

"On that note," Jonesy glanced at his watch and then fixed his suit jacket. "I'll be going. My number is in the paperwork, so if you have any questions you know how to get a hold of me."

Jonesy opened the door to leave and found Erik standing in the hallway with his arms crossed. Nadir nodded to Christine before walking toward the elevator with the lawyer. "I'm gonna go catch up with Monika. It's been so long since I got to see her cute little face."

Erik reentered the office when the other two left, shutting the door behind him. His eyes rested on her and she smiled at him from her seat on the desktop. "Hey. This desk really is awesome. Come try it out."

He joined her across the room and sat next to her on the desk, his legs dangling over the edge. She reached out to take intertwine their fingers and said, "So. I guess I'm a mafia boss now. How about that?"

There was a slight tremble in her hand and he held it firmly in his. He stood up and faced her as she peered up at him from her seat on the desk. Placing his free hand on her cheek while still holding her hand in his, he whispered, "I'm proud of you. You're facing the truth."

She reached up to hook her finger around the knot of his tie, yanking him down until their lips were only centimeters apart. There was a tiny pause as she waited in anticipation for him to take control of the heat swirling between them, to give it shape and direction. He caught her lips with his, a surge of blood as their hearts pounded in unison, her tongue dipping into his mouth in reply.

Her sweet, exploring kiss sent an urgent thrill coursing through his body and he yielded to the passion he had suppressed for so long. The need to close the short distance between them was a physical ache. It taunted him and he stepped forward, nudging her knees apart and pressing their chests flush against each other. She eagerly scooted forward to the edge of the desk, his hips the only thing keeping her from falling off.

He pried his hand free from hers, lips trailing light kisses along her upturned face as he leaned one hand on the desk for balance. He grabbed her knee and inched his way up the length of her thigh. His hand hesitated at the hem of her skirt, ghosting under the fabric as he reveled in the excited gasps escaping Christine's lips between kisses. She was warm and pliant under his hand, waiting on edge for his next move…

"Erik…" she moaned against his lips, peering up at him through hooded eyelids. Her body trembled, back arched toward him slightly in expectation.

He froze, his hand gripping her upper thigh and not moving as he stared down at her flushed face.

Blinking through the haze of excitement, Christine watched in utter amazement as Erik threw his hand up in the air. When he stepped back, a look of panic on his face, Christine teetered precariously on the edge of the desk, her support suddenly gone. "Wah!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, steadied her on the desk, and then threw his arms around her in a hasty embrace. Without warning, he escaped from the office, leaving Christine frustrated and completely unfulfilled. Her outraged yell followed him as he rushed down the hall way, "You tease!"

Erik left her in the office and quickly rode the elevator down to the first floor where Nadir was still flirting with the receptionist. When Erik strode into the lobby without Christine, his hair messed up and tie askew, Nadir knew something was amiss. With a quick apology to the receptionist, he motioned for Erik to follow him to an abandoned corner of the lobby. "So. Where's the little Boss?"

After a moment of brooding silence, the effect of which was marred by his frazzled appearance, Erik grumbled, "Nadir, I'm going to ask you a question and if you laugh I'll shoot you in your goddamned foot SO FAST you won't know what happened until the ambulance arrives."

Nadir wisely decided to keep his face free of any form of amusement as he nodded gravely. Erik waited a moment to make sure he wasn't going to bust up into bouts of laughter before saying in a completely serious tone, "How do you please a woman? Sexually, I mean."

"SWEET JESUS, ERIK! How can you say that shit with a straight face?" Nadir asked in a high-pitched whisper as he looked around to make sure there were no witnesses.

Erik remained completely serious, his eyes narrowed on Nadir. "I'm not joking. I've never had sex before and you obviously dabble in that area often. If you wanted to know how to kill a man five times before he hit the ground, I'd help you out."

"Okay, okay, geez," sighing heavily at the moody man glaring him down, Nadir scrubbed a hand over his bald scalp. "This right here is why you should have invested in a couple of hookers years ago. Now listen, I'm going to give you the quick and easy rundown of the female anatomy-"

"I know their anatomy!" Erik hissed defensively. "I know what goes where, I just don't know how to… I don't know…"

"Make it feel good?"

"Yes! Well, no. It would feel good for me regardless."

"God damn, Erik, then you obviously DON'T know female anatomy! Listen up, because I'm not going to repeat myself."

Erik listened intently with a look of wonder on his face as Nadir explained the ins and outs of making a girl happy. Sexually.

On the ride back to Madame Giry's, Christine noticed Erik was abnormally quiet and slightly spacey. She wondered if he was upset about their make-out session in the office and finally blurted, "I'm sorry if I put too much pressure on you. I don't care if you don't want to have sex on the desk. I was mostly joking anyway."

He glanced at her, a glassy look in his eyes before snapping back to attention. "It's fine. Don't worry about that."

"Oh," she didn't know whether to be hurt or relieved that he wasn't dwelling on the incident. She certainly was, she thought with a frustrated frown.

"We need to think of our next move," Erik said once they lapsed into uncomfortable silence again. "In particular, you have to decide whether or not you want in on this. If not, you'll need to make your separation from the mafia world clear. You might even have to downsize your staff, since half of them are Mafioso and working in strictly illegal areas."

Christine sighed and glanced out the window at the sun setting over the dark cityscape on the horizon. "That would put people out of their jobs. Besides, if I bow out, someone else will just take over. When I think of a coldhearted criminal assuming control of the city, it irritates me. At least I know I'm fair most of the time."

"What are you saying, Christine? If you're making a decision then you need to come right out and say it." Erik maneuvered the car around traffic, heedless of the angry drivers honking at his crazy driving.

Turning to face him in her seat, she said without flinching, "I'm going to rule over this whole city, Erik. And I'm going to be the greatest mafia boss ever. Better than my mom and dad. Head and shoulders above Carlotta and Firmin."

Erik peered at her out of the corner of his eyes, breath whooshing out of his lungs at the beauty of her resolve in that moment. She was everything he had ever wanted, a pillar of strength and compassion. When she looked at him with embarrassed, pleading eyes, he would have gladly given her anything she asked. "So, please stay with me and teach me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Sara made this happen, since I got lost a lot writing it and she helped me brainstorm. She was like "what about that story you love working on?" and I was all "A-buh-WAH?" But it all worked out in the end.

**Chapter Ten: Honor among Thieves**

"So Christine, it's a table." Erik ran his hand along the wooden surface of the table he and Christine were sitting behind in the back of the club. "You know, it's kinda like that desk from your office."

"Yes, Erik, I can see that." Christine rolled her eyes and glanced around the busy nightclub. Meg gave her a questioning look, confused by his words. "He's been pointing out every table, desk, and counter since we got here."

Christine leaned close to Meg and whispered loudly, "Going senile."

"Oh," Meg nodded sympathetically and eyed Erik with exaggerated pity. He scowled in reply and she hastily left to tend a newly arrived customer. Laughing, Christine threw her arm around Erik's waist as they sat side by side in their seat behind the table. She planted a firm kiss to his cheek in hopes of dispelling his bad mood.

Despite his best efforts, the kiss softened his expression and brought a small smile to his lips. He hoped he wasn't losing his ability to scare everyone around him into doing what he wanted. Then again, Christine seemed to be immune to his death glares and threats. Not that he would ever use them against her seriously.

When Raoul walked in through the entrance, Erik could barely believe his eyes. Christine felt his back stiffen under her arm and she glanced up to find his entire being focused on the front door. Raoul seemed lost as Meg caught sight of him from her place as doorkeeper. She frowned at him and tried to usher him outside, but he stood in place stubbornly.

"Oh good God," Christine buried her face into the material of Erik's shirt as if to escape the contact embarrassment washing over her for Raoul. Erik continued to glare at him as he sidestepped Meg and hurried across the room. "He's coming over, isn't he?"

"Christine, I'm through giving this boy chances. Did his mother drop him on his head as a child?"

"Probably," she groaned and stood up from the seat. Erik eyed her cautiously as she approached the young man. Raoul looked relieved when she strode over to him, but grew confused when she pointed to the front door. "Out. Now."

"But, I'm-" Before he could get any further, she grabbed him by the tie and yanked him out the door behind her. Her heels clicked on the cement as she dragged him across the parking lot to a vacant area then shoved him away. He rubbed the back of his neck and demanded, "What's your problem?"

"My problem, Raoul?! I thought I made it clear to you last time! The only reason you aren't dead right now is because Erik actually gives a shit what I think," she snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You, however, obviously don't give a second thought to anything I tell you. Is this case really worth dying over? Because you're walking a thin line right now!"

"I'm only worried about you!" he exclaimed, reaching for her. She stepped back out of the way, avoiding his embrace.

"I never asked you to worry about me!" She took a deep breath to calm herself. Raoul was peering at her with sadness in his clear, blue eyes. Mustering up her most convincing, serious expression, she stated in a slow, deliberate tone, "Raoul, listen to me because I'm not saying this again. If I find you snooping around in any mafia business again, the Phantom will be the least of your worries."

She stood silhouetted by the blue purple darkness of the city, pinpricks of light from the windows illuminating her figure. Her business skirt fluttered in the breeze as she balled her delicate hands into fists at her sides. The nighttime wind swept her long, curly dark hair in front of her face for a moment, obscuring the gleam of deadly confidence in her eyes.

When he finally found his voice, Raoul managed hurriedly, "Christine, if you'd just trust me, I can fix everything. There are plenty of good cops willing to-"

"Did I ask for your help?" She replied in cool impatience as she crossed her arms. She glared at him with a hint of irritation at his persistence. "The police in this city are incompetent and lazy. They answer to no one, and that makes them even more dangerous than the mafia. If I placed my trust in them to get the job done, nothing would change. The city would sink into the chaos created when people fight for leadership."

"So you've made your choice." Raoul sighed.

"These people have to believe in me. Their only other options are Carlotta and Firmin, neither of whom are very good leaders to follow." Christine glanced up at the darkened sky, the light of the stars overwhelmed by the glow from the city. "I plan to protect this way of life with all my power. They've have chosen to forge their own path rather than blindly hope for your system to save them."

Nadir stepped out of the shadowy doorway to call, "Christine, Erik's getting antsy waiting for you. I think he's afraid you're going to run off with the snitch."

Christine nodded to the intimidating, bald man in the crisp suit before casting one last look over her shoulder to Raoul. "I won't hesitate to shoot you next time you force your way into Madame Giry's. Good night, Officer."

Sweeping passed Nadir, who held the door open for her politely, Christine returned to the warmth of the nightclub. It was so strange to feel eyes on her from all around the room, but she hid her nervousness behind the mask of coolness she had picked up from observing Erik at work.

While Erik was waiting for Christine to return, Madame Giry walked over with a drink in one hand and placed it on the table in front of him. "Long night, Erik?"

"Something like that." He glanced up at her slowly before twisting the glass around between his hands. Taking a swig of the liquid, he closed his eyes as the alcohol burnt down his throat. "I'll never understand women, Giry. You're a strange lot."

"Well, they do call it the feminine mystique for a reason," the older woman laughed. She grew quiet and solemn after a moment when Erik failed to respond. "Erik, you do know this has to stop. She will not marry for love. No one marries for love in this world."

A ragged sigh escaped his lips and he locked eyes with her, his hand clenching around the glass tumbler. "I can't leave her alone. She asked me to stay with her."

"No, by all means, stay near her. She needs your guidance, especially now when everything is so new to her. But what she needs is your cunning. Your mind. Not your heart. That will only hurt the both of you."

"It's a little late for that," he ground out, gulping down the remainder of his drink and holding out the glass.

"You knew this was coming, Erik." Giry took the empty glass in her hands. "You have nothing to offer her. The people in her group will expect her to marry for connections. Power and money."

"That's the name of the game," he stated in a clipped tone and glared at her. "I'm well aware of where I stand in this world. The only thing I have to offer is my ability to inspire fear in others. I am her teacher, her mentor."

"And nothing more." Madame Giry added, meeting his gaze without hesitation. He nodded, but remained silent. That seemed to appease the older woman, who returned the gesture and walked back to the bar to deposit the empty glass.

A few minutes later, Christine found Erik slumped low in his seat, one hand propping his chin up, while the other rapping against the tabletop repeatedly. The waves of impatience radiating off him cleared the area of all the other customers, leaving him alone to brood. He eyed her as she sat down next to him. "Well?"

"He's an undercover cop." Christine stated as she took a sip from his new glass on the table and winced. "Ugh. I don't know what that is and I don't want to know."

"He's a WHAT?"

Christine turned her head to meet his eyes without flinching. "Raoul is an undercover police officer. Next time you see him snooping around, feel free to do what you think is best. I've given him plenty of warnings."

She nudged the glass of foul tasting alcohol toward him and said, "I trust you. I wish the idiot would just leave this whole thing alone."

Nadir stood against a nearby wall, fiddling with his tie when Christine waved him closer. "Can you go find Meg? I need to talk to you two."

Erik watched Nadir walk away. "What's going on?"

She smiled at him. "A mini-conference with all my trusted friends. Luckily, you're all more experienced in this world than I am, so I can run my plan by you guys before putting it into action."

"Plan?" He repeated slowly, as if trying to understand too much at once. She gave him an amused look and slipped her hand into his on the table.

"You must be tired, you're not keeping up today. Don't worry, we can go get a hotel room after this." She assured him before quirking an eyebrow and playfully nudging him in the ribs. "Might not get much sleep though."

Her teasing caused him to tense in his seat, a frown forming on his lips. Before he could reply, Meg rushed over, her long, black dress swishing around her ankles as she ran ahead of Nadir. Her blonde hair flew forward over her shoulders as she halted abruptly in front of their table. "You called, Boss-lady?"

Grinning, Christine reached over to slap the seat of a chair near her decisively. "Join us over here at the cool people table, hot stuff. I got an offer you can't refuse."

"Oooo," Meg slid into the seat, hands cupping her face in exaggerated fear. "Whatever am I to do? A lamb among wolves!"

"I'll treat you well, baby. Show you a good time," Christine leered at her until Nadir finally reached the table. Erik shook his head tiredly at the other man.

"They've gone crazy." He sighed and rubbed his left temple as if a headache was coming on.

"I guess their youthful antics would confuse someone-"

Erik's sharp glare shut Nadir's mouth quickly. "Finish that sentence, Persian. See what happens."

"Enough, enough, it was just a joke," Christine gestured toward another chair and Nadir took his seat. She leaned forward to fold her hands on the table. "I plan to have a small show of power to commemorate my entry into this pleasant underworld."

"What're you thinking of doing?" Meg asked, her amused expression losing some of its humor as the conversation turned to business. "Nothing too dangerous, I hope."

"It's only as dangerous as my guests want it to be," Christine said carefully, a twinge of pain radiating up from her healing wound on her side. "A gala. Or party. Dinner thing, you know? Extravagant as I can afford, full of my people. A harmless show of money and manpower. I can deliver personal invitations to all the heads of the area. If they refuse, it will reflect badly upon them."

There was a short silence as they considered her statement. Erik spoke first, gruffly serious. "The idea isn't bad. But you have people to handle the details of those things. Hand delivering the invitations yourself is out of the question. You're above that now."

"Then I'll try to get a hold of a secretary tomorrow…" she glanced at Nadir hopefully. "I do have a secretary, right?"

"Yes, Boss." Nadir nodded. "If you want, I can talk to her myself and give her the low-down."

"But-"

Erik held out a hand, cutting her off. "You have to get used to delegating these things. The number of people waiting at your beck and call is absurd. Give the poor bastards something to do."

She grew silent for a moment as she thought over the idea. Nodding, she asked, "Will you all be there if I do this?"

Without realizing it, Christine's hand strayed to the wound on her side. The only one close enough to notice the movement was Erik, who felt a watched the self-conscious gesture with a pang of sympathy and regret. If he had been faster, more attentive, she wouldn't have been injured by the hitman. Meg spoke up enthusiastically. "Of course we'll go to your little coronation party. Any reason to dress up, right?"

"Personally, I think I look horrible in dresses and heels." Nadir commented idly, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll just leave that to you fine, young ladies."

"You're gross, Nadir," Meg laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. While they joked about who was going to wear nylons to the party, Christine turned to Erik quietly and slipped her hand into his under the table. This shocked him out of his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, concern furrowing her brow. He gazed at her for a moment, longing and sadness written on his face before a shield of indifference dropped over him and he shook his hand free from hers.

"I'm going home." He stood abruptly, surprising Meg and Nadir from their playful banter. They scooted back out of his way as he strode passed them toward the exit. Christine pursed her lips into a frown as she nearly leapt over them to catch up. She grabbed his arm just as he got outside of the club. He glanced over his shoulder, that unnerving look of cool he normally used in business dealings hiding his expression.

"Don't leave yet," she complained, trying to wrap her arms around his waist. He stepped back out of reach and she jolted. Reaching out her hand to him, she said simply, "Why are you being this way? I want you, Erik."

If not for the slight clenching of his fists, she would have thought him completely unmoved by the statement. He arched an eyebrow at her. "Christine, you shouldn't be seen with me from now on. Socially, we're in completely different circles."

"Oh?" She asked, heart beating fast as it struggled to stay afloat in the waves of anger and depression surging through her. "So, you're not coming back to the club after tonight?"

He nodded slowly. "You'll get by without me. You're a very resourceful woman. And if there's an emergency or you need help, Nadir knows how to contact me."

Her throat constricted painfully as she fought the tears that sprung to her eyes. "I guess this shouldn't surprise me. It seemed like I was the only one who felt anything between us. Stupid, little Christine, thinks she's so special, right? Just an annoying kid tugging at your sleeve."

When he stood in place like an emotionless statue, her sadness exploded into anger. "Fine! Whatever, Erik, I'm tired of chasing you all the time! If I want to kiss, I'm the one who has to grab your tie and force my tongue down your throat. If I want you to look at me, I have to throw myself in front of an assassin!"

"Christine, I have to leave now. Go back into the club where it's safe." His level tone revealed only a polite concern for her wellbeing.

"Rrrgh!" She strangled the air in front of her as if it were his neck before spinning on her heel to charge back into the nightclub. She shoved the door open so violently it knocked into a customer who was standing too close to the entrance and he spun around angrily. When he saw Christine glare back at him with the promise of death in her eyes, he quickly backed down and scurried away.

Nadir and Meg watched her stomp back toward them alone, knowing Erik had messed things up again. Christine immediately launched into an uncontrollable tirade, waving her hands in angry gestures. "I don't get that guy! Is there something wrong with me?! Am I fucking leper or something? What the hell is up with all his goddamned mood swings?"

"I take it Erik left." Meg ventured cautiously. "What did he have to do?"

Christine laughed once, harshly. "Who knows! What does he usually do when he's on his man-period?! Probably had to go sit in his room alone and cry like a little girl! Oh no, looks like Erik's upset again! He's gonna take all the hotness and go home!"

"Ouch." Nadir winced, his manly pride taking the hit since Erik wasn't present. "Hey, there's still hotness around."

Christine waved at him impatiently. "Yeah, sure, but you're bald-man hot. Erik's mysterious hot."

"I'm just saying, look what you get when you ask for mysterious. The crazy son of a bitch who can kill people with every kitchen appliance ever made, but doesn't know why holding hands with a girl makes him all tingly inside." Nadir stated. "38 years old, Christine, and still a virgin. I'm just saying. That's not normal."

"When you finally get around to having sex, you should totally charge him twice," Meg pointed out, her prostitute knowledge abound. "Once for him and once for the huge emotional baggage he's got dragging around behind him."

She stood up and placed gentle hands on Christine's shoulders, leading her toward the stairs. She and Nadir had noticed the attention Christine's ranting was starting to attract from the busy club. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I can brush your hair and I'll let you listen to that funny song, I Touch Myself. You know the one. And guess what's going to be on tonight? That Thing You Do. It's a good movie. You'll like it."

Christine's angry expression slowly relaxed as Meg walked with her upstairs. "Meg, what if he won't come to the party? I don't think I could handle this on my own."

Her hand started to tremble and her shoulders slumped as the weight of her new position suddenly hit her. It was cruel of Erik to take away one of the only comforts Christine had left in her life, but Meg knew that Christine would endure. This was a good exercise in self-reliance, even if it was completely unnecessary in her opinion. "You're not alone, Christine. Just focus on what you need to do. The rest will fall into place."

As Meg watched Christine enter their bedroom, she wondered if Erik and Christine would ever settle into a stable relationship. All she wanted was for her friend to be happy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Got nothing. Enjoy it, you lovely fiends.

**Chapter Eleven: Advance and Retreat**

Two days later, Christine was watching Nadir kneeling at the broken front door to her house, busy with repairs. True to his word, Erik hadn't come by the club since their argument, and she hadn't been able to forget her anxiety for a moment. After many hours of pacing restlessly around the nightclub, Madame Giry finally told her to go somewhere else for a while.

Sighing heavily, Christine sat on the arm of the sofa as Nadir managed to get the doorknob turning properly. As he shut the door gingerly, Christine asked, "Are you sure there's nothing for me to do? I could help set up for the party."

"Honestly, Christine, that's the tenth time today you've brought it up. I couldn't let you, even if I wanted. The whole party arrangement deal has been out of my hands for awhile now." He clicked the lock on the door after it shut and nodded in satisfaction. He walked over to sit down on a nearby couch in the living room. "We just gotta wait. They should have everything ready by tonight."

"More waiting, huh?" Christine flopped back into the sofa dramatically. An overwhelming surge of loneliness nearly brought tears to her eyes as she reclined back across the couch with her arm thrown over her face. Everyone had something to do. Only she was sitting here, unwanted and useless.

Her idle mind continued on overdrive through her loneliness and eventually she latched onto the most depressing thought in her brain. Her father had been her last family member and he'd been dead for a week. He had been a good dad, tried to attend her school functions, paid her way through college, always bragged about her to his friends.

She could only remember a vague collection of feelings when she tried to think about her mother, since she'd died when Christine was only five years old. But now, sitting in her father's house with only her bodyguard for company, she felt completely alone in the world. A chill swept through her body as she fought down a sudden wave of hysteria.

Why had she not felt this way when she was with Erik? Christine glanced over at Nadir, who was flipping through a magazine from the table. She knew she had strong feeling for Erik, but even so, the pain of having lost a family member seemed to lighten when she was with him. He made her smile and laugh at this dark world her father had left to her.

She remembered something Erik had told her when she first met Nadir. He was her father's bodyguard and assistant, but he had been mysteriously absent the day Gustav was murdered. When she'd asked Erik why Nadir hadn't shown up for work, he'd told her it wasn't his place to say. Christine eyed him suspiciously as he grinned up at her from behind his sunglasses. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Where were you the day my father was killed?" Christine demanded, irritable from her loneliness and irrational anxiety. She hated feeling like her whole world revolved around Erik's presence. "Erik said you had something important to do, but wouldn't tell me what."

His smile disappeared instantly and he seemed to wilt before her eyes. Within seconds, Nadir was only a fraction of his normally happy self, a deep frown turning his smile lines into creases of age. "I guess you have the right to know. I feel responsible for your father's death, even if there was no way I could have prevented it."

She waited for him to continue and after a moment's pause to collect himself, he said slowly, "I'll never forget the day you lost your father. It's the same day I lost my son."

Christine stared at him in shock, the blood draining from her face as if he had physically punched her in the stomach. "Your son?"

Nadir nodded once. "He had acute myelogenous leukemia… he was the last person I had left."

After a moment, Christine spoke in a shaky voice, "But… aren't there treatments to help that sort of thing?"

"Some." Nadir admitted, rubbing a hand over his shiny scalp. "A year or so ago, Reza underwent chemotherapy. There's only a 50 chance of survival, even in this day and age. When he… lost his hair, that's when I shaved my head for the first time. I told him all the cool people go bald. You should have seen the smile on his face…"

Christine gazed at the somber, crushed man sitting in front of her. How could this be the lighthearted Nadir she was used to? "I'm so sorry, Nadir."

He met her eyes reluctantly. "When he passed… honestly, my whole world was over. Someone informed me of your father's death soon after. The thought that you'd be left alone to face the criminals of this world is the only thing that kept me from killing myself. I owed it to your father to make sure you'd survive."

Just as they lapsed into an awkward, upset silence, the doorbell rang. Christine jumped up, startled by the sudden noise and started for the door only to have Nadir stand up. "Wait a minute. Let me answer it."

Christine stepped behind him as he walked to the door, opening it to find a petite woman in a business suit holding two boxes stacked in her hands. She smiled up at Nadir and offered the clothing and shoe boxes to him. "I'm from G. D. Enterprises, delivering Miss Daae's dress for the dinner party tonight. Everything's all set and your limo will be here to drive you to the banquet hall at 8 P.M."

Nadir took the boxes from the woman and peeked inside them before nodding. "Thanks. Good job."

He shut the door and handed the parcels to Christine, who took them eagerly. He could see the energy seeping back into her now that she had something to take her mind off the past few days. She glanced at a clock on the wall. "I'm going to take a shower and start getting ready. Do you want to go home to get ready too?"

"Can't leave you here alone, Boss." He stated simply as he locked the front door. "Go ahead and get ready. Want me to call Meg and see if she wants to ride with us to the party?"

"Yes, please," Christine rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door and put the boxes on her bed. In the smaller box was a pair of elegant, black high heels. In the larger, rectangular box was a carefully folded, black cocktail dress.

Picking up the dress gingerly, she spread it out on the bed to examine it. Her heart sank as she gazed at the strapless, black silk dress. At the bottom of the box was a pair of short, black gloves that stopped at the wrists and a simple, matching purse. Despite their effective, simple design, she knew that they were all top of the line purchases. That wasn't what bothered her.

As she eyed the nice dress, she remembered Erik's pleased expression when she wore the burgundy business suit. His cute, well hidden embarrassment when she mentioned it matched his tie.

Glaring her eyes to fight back the tears that tingled in her throat, Christine stomped to her closet and dug through the piles of accessories scattered on the floor. After a minute of searching, she held up an extremely long, sheer scarf. It was blood red and when wrapped around her neck still had enough length to drape fashionably down to her knees.

As she walked to the bathroom connected to her bedroom, she tossed the scarf on the bed.

The company had reserved a large banquet hall at a fancy Italian restaurant for the dinner party. Christine, Nadir, and Meg got to the restaurant thirty minutes early at Christine's insistence. She wanted to greet her guests as they arrived.

When nine o'clock rolled around, a sudden flood of people entered the banquet room carrying gifts wrapped in decorative paper. Christine gazed at the men in business suits swarming toward her. She almost ran the other way in panic as they all offered their presents to her along with pleasant compliments. Meg leaned close and whispered, "Tell them to put all the gifts on the big, circular table in the back. Otherwise you'll drown in the sea of goodies."

Christine sent her a thankful smile and said in her most charming voice, "Thank you so much for coming. Please deposit all packages on the back table."

One skinny man in a blue suit handed his present to a nearby lackey and approached Christine. His brownish blond hair was brushed back from his forehead and his smile was too broad for his slender face. "Hello, Miss Daae. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I visited by a particularly… persuasive colleague of yours recently and I must say, I offer you my full support and encouragement."

"Ah, you must be talking about Erik," Christine could help but grin at the man's choice of words. "That would make you Mr. Firmin, correct? The pleasure's all mine."

She slipped her gloved hand into his and he shook it warmly. She offered her hand to the man beside him without glancing up and was surprised when the other man kissed her exposed wrist instead of shaking her hand. Hiding her annoyance, she turned to face the presumptuous man, only to find herself staring up at Raoul.

His black eye was looking better, cleverly concealed with make-up. Despite her irritation, she couldn't help but crack a smile at his beaten puppy expression. Before she knew it, she was laughing at his poor, abused face. "Raoul, it's good seeing you again. You're looking well."

If he was confused by her sudden acceptance of him, he hid it well. Meg stepped nearer to Christine, a purposefully blank look on her face as she asked, "Is he bothering you, honey?"

Christine was amused by Raoul's persistence tonight. Seeing a familiar face, even one that had taken a beating, was encouraging. Firmin glanced nervously between them. "You two know each other? But I thought…"

"He's an old friend, Firmin, that's all." Christine assured the petite man, patting him on the arm gently. "Please, enjoy yourselves. I need to greet my other guests for now."

Raoul leaned close, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face as he murmured into her ear, "Save a dance for me, beautiful."

Her body betrayed her with a shiver at his breathy words, his warm fingers lingering on her face a second before he walked away with Firmin following behind. Christine cursed herself as her eyes strayed to ogle at Raoul's lean figure. Meg sent her a warning look before she turned to greet the next guest.

Carlotta stood before them, scrutinizing Christine with a bored expression. Christine saw Piangi following Carlotta and envy coursed through her. Even her enemy got to be with the one she loved. Carlotta smiled slyly as she spoke, "We didn't bring a gift. I hope you don't mind, dear."

When Meg jolted silently beside her, Christine knew there was something wrong. Christine returned the loaded smile and reassured her, "Don't worry your pretty little head. I know things are tight for you right now, Carlotta. I wouldn't dream of accepting a gift from someone of your means."

Carlotta's lips stretched into a thin, straight frown as she fought to ignore the insult. Leaning close, she offered her hand and when Christine took it bravely, her other hand snaked out to press against Christine's left side. Pain shot through the stitched wound on her side and she clenched her teeth to keep from wincing. She wouldn't give the bitch that satisfaction.

"How IS your injury doing these days?" She hissed lightly, the hand on Christine's side closing slightly to put more pressure on the wound. "Next time you sick your little attack dog on me, no amount of stitching will be able to put you back together, girl."

Meg stepped forward, but Christine shook her head slightly, her face pale from the pain. Carlotta straightened her posture, taking her hands away and scanning the room idly. "Hm. Looks like your Phantom has spirited himself away. Who will listen to you without your enforcer? Twenty year old prostitutes don't exactly inspire fear in the hearts of men."

Christine's face remained pointedly blank as Carlotta's taunting voice echoed in her head. She tried her hardest to keep from fainting as the pain in her side subsided and Carlotta walked further into the banquet room. Meg grabbed her arm and spoke apologetic words to the next guest waiting in line.

Shrugging her away, Christine stood up straight and walked to a chair on her own, her blood red scarf trailing in her wake. More than the physical pain, the emotional turmoil Carlotta's words had stirred within her was undeniable. After a few minutes of steady breathing, Christine glanced around. The guests were all happily eating, talking, or dancing.

She looked toward the shadows hopefully, but found them empty. Had he truly abandoned her?

Fists clenching on her lap, Christine bit her bottom lip and eyed the plate in front of her. How stupid of her to assume someone like Erik could be interested in her. She was young, naïve, uninteresting…

"Nobody puts baby in a corner, huh?" Raoul's voice floated over from behind her. She smiled weakly as he slid into the chair beside her. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You look like someone just kicked your dog."

"What do you care?" She sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

"I already told you, Christine. I care about you. It bothers me to see you like this, all alone in a room full of enemies." He replied, leaning his elbows on the table. "Where's your arm candy? I'm surprised he would leave you hanging like this."

"You don't know anything, Raoul," she snapped irritably, though his words were just another in a long line of emotional jabs she'd taken that night.

"Maybe not," he replied, standing from his seat and holding his hand out to her. "All I know is if you were mine, I wouldn't leave you alone for a second. Two is better than one, don't you think?"

She stared up at him with a wounded expression and slipped her hand into his. They walked to the dance floor just as the band began to play Frank Sinatra's Fly Me to the Moon. It was just the right speed to dance a playful waltz. Raoul pulled her close, their bodies bumping against each others as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She flinched as his arm pressed into her left side and took his arm away from her wound, instead holding his right hand in her left. Their fingers intertwined as he led her through the song.

When the song sped up, he twirled her around under his arm and she laughed as she spun until her arm was fully extended before he pulled her back into his arms. Her back was pressed against his front from the spinning movement and his arms were locked around her in a circle. She could feel his chest rising and falling, his breath warm on her ear. A flush spread across her cheeks as she realized he was aroused.

Before she could break free from his embrace, he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. The sensation of his lips on her sensitive skin nearly caused her eyes to droop shut and head fall to the side to allow him better access. Her body surprised her once again when a quiet moan almost escaped her lips.

She struggled in his arms, finally slipping under his hold and hurrying back to Nadir. He glanced at her questioningly as she neared. "You're all red-faced. Something happen?"

"No. Nothing happened." Christine grabbed a glass of water from the table and downed the contents without pause. She looked up to make sure Raoul wasn't following her. He was still standing dumbstruck on the dance floor. Nodding to herself, she grumbled, "Damn him. Every man but the one I want, huh?"

"What's that?" Nadir asked.

"I'm just pissed that Erik isn't here tonight." Christine muttered, crossing her arms. "I thought he cared more about me, you know?"

"Oh," Nadir shrugged as she plopped down into a chair. "He's here alright."

"Say what?"

"Yeah," he repeated, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handing it to her. "You can't see him. He's really good at that shit. Sneaky bastard."

"You mean he's here? Now?" She stared around the room in a mixture of nervousness and need. "So he saw all that?"

"Your little sexy dance with pretty boy? Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"He had the red laser from his gun trained on your boy toy's back for a good portion of the song." Nadir said with a wry smile. "Congratulations. You've got an irrational, jealous killer for a boyfriend. Enjoy that."

"He's not my boyfriend," Christine sighed, resting her forehead on the table tiredly. "Just wake me up if Erik tries to end anyone."

"No problem, Boss. Take it easy for a little bit. I got it under control."

A few hours and many glasses of champagne later, Meg was helping Christine out of the limo while Nadir held the door open for them. "There, there, honey. Lean on my shoulder. Watch it, we're coming up on the threshold."

Christine stepped through the front door carefully and eyed the stairs leading up to her second floor bedroom. She clung to Meg tightly as she mumbled, "I don't wanna go up the steps."

"A little help, Nadir?" Meg choked out, Christine's arms pressing into her windpipe. Nadir scooped Christine up easily and flung her over his shoulder, mindful of her stitches.

"Up we go!" He took the stairs two at a time and Christine threw her hands over her mouth, making a disgusted groan. "Hold it in, I don't want to have to dry clean this suit."

Meg hurried after them and once in Christine's room, she pushed Nadir outside the door. "I'll help her change. Wait out here."

Christine was sprawled in a sitting position on the floor against her bed, a hand pressed over her eyes as if the light was giving her a headache. Meg sighed and went to the dresser, removing a green tank-top and frog print pajama shorts. "Come on, baby. Let's get you ready for bed."

When Meg approached, Christine fumbled with the hem of her shirt, pulling it up until it somehow got stuck on her hairpin. Meg quickly untangled the clothes and got Christine into the pajamas. When Christine rubbed at her temples and whimpered, Meg helped her to sit on the bed and then walked to the door. "I'll get you some water and Advil."

Christine watched Meg leave, her mind blurry from slight intoxication and the night's events. She flopped back onto the bed and regretted it immediately when her head throbbed in protest. Rolling over to her side, she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain until a scraping noise caught her attention.

She opened her eyes just in time to see a man dressed in black climb in through her window.

It was safe to say Erik's night was a bust. The party had been annoying and Christine had done well when dealing with the other Mafioso. That didn't make it easy to see her dancing close and sexy with that… that… SNITCH.

He was driving home, having waited until Nadir carried Christine into the safety of their rented limo before leaving. Even driving his beloved classic car was doing nothing to elevate his mood. He'd been depressed and unable to focus on work since he'd left Christine at Madame Giry's a few nights before.

Not only was his attention span non-existent, he had kept his cell phone within arm's reach at all times, hoping to get a call from her. It was absurd. She didn't even have a cell phone.

He made a mental note to buy her one as soon as possible and then immediately berated himself for the thought.

Just then, his phone rang from its place on the seat next to him and he snatched it up with greedy hands. Holding it to his ear, he spoke in a voice of forced calm. "Yes?"

"Thank, God! Erik, this is Meg. We're at Christine's house and someone attacked-" There was a shriek in the background and the call cut off abruptly. Erik nearly drove his car into a building doing a U-turn in the middle of the street.

Heart pounding frantically in his chest, Erik sped toward the suburbs with a single-minded desperation. What if Christine was hurt again? What if this time, he wasn't there to help her and she died?

He cursed Madame Giry for her old fashioned mindset and almost beat his head against the steering wheel for listening to her. When he pulled into the driveway outside Christine's house, he ripped the keys out of the ignition and found the front door of the house locked. Angry beyond words, he kicked the door open and ran toward the stairs.

A loud scream rang out from Christine's room and he nearly flew up the stairs, bursting into the bedroom to find Nadir dabbing at Christine's knuckles with a cotton swab. The skin on her right knuckles was red and split as if she'd punched someone multiple times. A man was lying face down on the carpet in the middle of the room, not moving.

Meg entered behind Erik, her hands full of plastic zip-ties. "Oh. Hey, Erik. Good to see you."

But Erik's full attention was focused on Christine, who was sniffling from her seat on the edge of her bed. At the mention of his name, she glanced up slowly. Her eyes widened when they locked gazed and her flimsy mask of bravery shattered instantly. She threw her arms up, stretching out for him as her tears finally overflowed.

The helplessness in her voice brought his self control crashing down around him as she sobbed, "Erik!"

Before he could stop himself, he had crossed the distance separating them and wrapped his arms around her, knocking Nadir out of the way. She circled her arms around his back and latched on tightly, burying her face into his shirt as she cried.

He knelt on the floor in front of her, his face pressed against her hair, murmuring, "I love you. God, I love you. Don't do this to me anymore. I could have died. If nothing else, keep her safe."

Nadir took the zip-ties from Meg, who left the room discreetly when she saw Erik move toward Christine. Using the ties, he began to hogtie the unconscious assassin in an efficient style. Out of the corner of his eyes, Erik noticed Nadir start to drag the assassin out of the room. His need for revenge burned in his veins as he tried to stand up in order to help Nadir remove the attacker for interrogation.

Christine's grip on his shirt remained firm and caused him to jerk to a halt. "No. Nadir can take care of that asshole."

Erik watched Nadir drag the man out of the room and shut the door, leaving them alone in her room. "But, I-"

"You're not my subordinate, Erik. This is a job for me and my people. You're not my hired thug. Nadir is."

"I don't understand," Erik fumbled with his words, almost frantic from her refusal of his help. "You can't just get rid of me. Is this because of what I said-"

"Who said I'm getting rid of you? Erik, you're my lover. Not my personal hit man," she leaned in to kiss his cheek as he gaped at her in shock. "Aw, did I break you? How cute."

In all the years he'd followed Elizabeth, keeping her safe, doing his best to please her even to the point of killing, she had never thought of him as more than a convenient tool. This sudden change in his status surprised him to the point of stupidity.

Christine took full advantage of his confusion to yank him down to her lips by his tie. She kissed him with a savage passion, a hint of punishment hidden behind the pleasure. When she finally broke for air, she breathed, "I've missed you."

He stared up at her with heavy-lidded eyes glassy from lust. It was a good look for him. She sighed and burrowed close to him within his arms. "Tell me again."

"What?" he gasped, her head dipped down to his collar, lips nibbling along the sensitive skin at the base of his throat.

"What you said earlier," her warm breath tickled and he almost squirmed in pleasure. "How you feel about me."

"Oh," his brain was hazy, muddled. Her hands trailed down his back and he wondered how it would feel with his shirt off. Her pretty nails would apply just the right pressure, somewhere between a caress and a scratch. "I love you."

A small sigh escaped her lips, arms looping to rest around his shoulders. She pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes briefly. "Would you take off your mask for me, Erik?"

At the moment, he felt like he would agree to anything she asked just to keep her in his arms, but when her words registered in his mind he reflexively tried to draw back. He stopped himself through sheer force of will and managed, "If you want it off, you'll have to do it yourself."

She peered up at him and saw the firm resolve in his eyes. Was he testing her? Hadn't she already proven how much she loved him? Without hesitation, she reached up and removed the polished half-mask covering the deformed part of his face.

He was still horribly disfigured, but she stared at him with a mix of defiance and love in her eyes. "If you're hoping to scare me away, you underestimate me."

She placed gentle hands on both sides of his face, drawing him into another passionate kiss that sent a shiver through both of them. She clung to him, pressed so close he could feel every contour of her body against his.

One hand slipped under her tank-top, brushing her smooth skin with slow, exploring fingers hidden within his leather gloves. His other hand cupped her cheek as their kiss deepened, his touch soft as if she would shatter in his grip.

When her hand strayed to the waist of his pants, he jolted back in surprise. She hadn't even touched his skin. He was wearing a suspicious amount of clothes from his undershirt and boxers to his heavy overcoat and all the layers in between. He even has his annoyingly cool leather gloves on still.

She stared at him, their kiss broken when she'd reached for his pants. "Gonna make this difficult? You can't say you're not attracted to me."

The erection currently straining against his dress pants was enough evidence to back up her statement.

"At least I can tell what your body wants, even if your brain keeps running around in circles." She muttered, taking his gloved hand in hers. "Why do you always wear these? You can't possibly feel anything through them."

"For the same reason I wear my mask," he replied as she carefully tugged the gloves away revealing his hands. The flesh on his right hand was scarred and looked burned. The fingers were thin, skeletal, with almost no meat to conceal the twisted tendons just below the mangled skin.

She brought his hands up to her face and pressed a kiss to each palm. He eyes met his, flushed cheeks and loving smile making his heart hammer loudly within his ribcage. "It's okay, Erik. I'm not going anywhere. We'll take this slow."

A rush of relief crashed over him as her gentle, understanding words. Despite everything, she still wanted him. He watched as she climbed into her bed and pulled back the blanket. She raised an eyebrow at him when he remained kneeling in place. "Well? Just because we aren't having sex doesn't mean I can't get cuddles."

"You mean… I can sleep with you?" The surprise in his voice caused her to experience a pang of sympathy for him. It was as though the mere idea of sleeping in the same bed as someone else was beyond his wildest dreams.

"You really don't have a choice. I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone tonight after that attack," she smiled at him as she beckoned him with a finger. "So, take pity on a scared girl? But you gotta take off your shoes at least."

He quickly kicked off his leather shoes and climbed into her bed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She laughed as he rained kisses on her face repeatedly, and she eventually fell asleep with her ear pressed to his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** There's some stuff in this chapter that isn't suitable for the younger ones, violence and sex-wise. Those are two separate topics, by the way. You can skip ahead if it makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned.

Also, some songs that inspired me while writing this chapter:

"House of Wolves" - My Chemical Romance

"Fever" - Ella Fitzgerald

**Chapter Twelve: Blues in the Night**

"ERIK!" The sound of a woman's voice broke through his dark nightmare and Erik flinched away, shielding his head with his arms as if expecting a physical blow. "Erik, please, wake up!"

Erik's eyes snapped open instantly to find Christine hovering over him. It took a moment for his frantic mind could register his surroundings. He must have looked calmer, because Christine exhaled in relief and sat back, placing a gentle hand on his chest. "You were thrashing around and screaming. It looked like you were in pain."

The sensation of her cool hands on the sweat damp skin of his chest surprised him and he glanced down to find he had kicked himself free of his overcoat, blazer, vest and tie. He had managed to undo the first five buttons on his dress shirt during his fitful sleeping, exposing a decent amount of chest. His throat felt scratchy and weak as he croaked, "How long was I doing it?"

She shrugged. "A while now. Off and on, really. It helped when I held you and sang that song you taught me when I was little."

"A few hours then," he sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes only to find his mask was still gone. He patted around the bed searching for it until she grabbed his hand.

"It's okay. Please don't put it back on yet." She squirmed closer to him under the covers. Hesitantly, he allowed her to nestle into his arms and settle her head against the crook of his neck. "It's comfortable like this."

His eyelids drooped low as she continued in her silky, gentle tone, "Were you having a nightmare?"

"Mm," he nodded slightly, his chin nudging against the top of her head with the tiny movement.

"What was it about?"

"Don't remember much of it. Just a knife in the darkness and my mother yelling all the things she used to say when she was mad," Erik murmured soothed by her nearness.

Christine kissed the small bit of skin exposed by the unbuttoned shirt and smiled when the tension immediately dissolved from his shoulders. Her voice was muffled by his shirt when she asked, "Will you tell me about her? She taught my mom things, right?"

"Things," he scoffed, a hoarse laugh escaping his throat. "Madeleine taught Elizabeth the proper way to use a man. Give and take. Mostly just clever ways of taking."

"She taught her how to be a prostitute?"

"Something like that," he managed, the dreamy tone of his voice rapidly shifting into something more impatient, annoyed. Christine felt the tension building in the muscles of his back again and quickly changed the topic.

"I can give you a massage if you want," she offered happily, sitting up on her knees. "It'll help you get back to sleep."

Erik glanced at the digital clock blinking on the nightstand and grimaced. It was only 3 A.M., technically he didn't have to be awake for any reason at the moment. He groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, angling his head to the side on a pillow. "Go ahead."

She grinned and cracked her knuckles then winced as her right hand stung tender from the beating she had given the assassin earlier. Pushing the pain aside, she began kneading the muscles connecting his shoulders, neck, and upper back. The muscles under his shirt were rock hard from years of stress and she had to use her elbow to help them relax.

After a few minutes of firm pressure, she noticed he wasn't saying anything and paused. "Am I hurting you? I can stop if you want. My dad always liked when I massaged his back for him."

When he didn't respond, she crept over him to glance at his face. His eyes were closed and there was a look of relaxation on his face. Panicking, she almost believed she'd killed him, but when he murmured her name lightly with a small smile twisting his already mangled lips, she knew it was only sleep. Christine leaned closer to brush her lips over his before crawling back to her side of the bed.

Christine was gone when Erik woke up later that morning. He rolled over groggily, expecting to find someone warm and comforting, only to sit up abruptly when he felt nothing but empty blankets. Confused and thoughts scattered from sleep, he quickly snatched his mask and gloves off the floor, putting both on as he hurried downstairs. The sound of Christine's laughter led him toward the kitchen.

She was seated in her pajamas at the table, spreading cream cheese on a bagel while Nadir talked and gestured animatedly with his hands. She was smiling in amusement at Nadir, and the expression irritated Erik. He stepped into the room decisively and they both turned to glance at him. Christine nodded to him as she bit into her bagel and he walked around to sit in the chair next to her. Eying Nadir jealously, he scooted his chair closer to her. "What were you two talking about?"

Gulping back a drink of milk, Christine managed, "Nadir was telling me a joke. He's got plenty of them."

Nadir shrugged, rubbing at his scalp idly. "Now that we're all present, what say I tell you who hired that assassin?"

Erik sat at attention, hands gripping the edge of the table hard. "Did he talk?"

Flashing his teeth in a wide, predator grin, Nadir stated, "Of course. He was actually pretty talkative, but then he was a petty criminal. They're really scraping the bottom of the barrel over at Carlotta's. He dropped Piangi's name."

Erik leaned forward, hands still clutching the table, eyes narrowing to slits of rage. "They're dead."

"Slow down, Turbo," Christine placed a hand on Erik's chest, easing him back in his chair as she stood to lean on his shoulders from behind. "It was me she attacked. I think I should decide her fate."

Nadir nodded in agreement, though Erik tensed in his seat. Christine continued to rest against his shoulders and back as she said, "You were there at the party last night. You should have both seen how she disrespected me. She pretty much told me she was the reason I got hurt, and had the audacity to grab my wound."

"She did WHAT?" Erik demanded, his simmering rage erupting as he tried to whirl around and face her. Christine used her weight to hold him in his seat.

"You have no place to be pissed. You should have come with me." She snapped, but changed the subject abruptly. "Anyway, what does one does a mafia boss do to someone who openly defies them?"

Erik and Nadir spoke in unison without pause. "Kill one of her men."

Christine sat back down in her seat, confusion on her face. "But how? Do I just go to her casino and shoot someone at random?"

Appalled at the statement, Erik stared at her. "No! You have to do it right. It's not about the death. It's the fear that's most important. Death is just a way to get results. Fear and respect go hand in hand with these people."

Arching an eyebrow at Erik's words, Nadir said, "Well, you'd know. But normally, you have to hire an assassin or have some of your lackeys handle the hit, Christine."

"Do we have anyone who could do it?" she asked, honestly stumped on the subject.

Both Nadir and Erik gaped at her clueless words. Finally, Nadir laughed, "Yeah. We could hire Erik. He's a fucking legend. Can kill a man five times before he hits the ground."

Christine glanced at Erik skeptically, who stared back without expression. "But he's retired. I don't want him to slip a disc doing a hit for me. He might slap us with a workmen's comp suit."

"I'm insulted. And I'm not that old."

"Well…" she held her chin while she thought about the proposal. "What are your rates?"

Nadir barely managed to choke back his laugh when Erik glared at him. "My… rates, as you so crudely put it, are reasonable. You pay per hit. Body count rises with price."

Christine pondered this for a moment before offering her hand to Erik. "Fine. One person. Make them an example that Carlotta won't forget."

"Done." He shook her hand, sealing the deal.

It was almost night time when Erik finally strode toward the large, brick warehouse nestled deep in the downtown section of town. He wore his trusty, fully loaded Glock 19 strapped to the small of his back, under his overcoat and blazer. A sturdy, sharp hunting knife was safely stashing in its sheath on his thigh, ready to go at a moment's notice.

And just in case, he kept a length of thin, strong rope fashioned into his trademark Punjab lasso secured to the inside of his overcoat. Countless men had fallen to this instrument of death before Erik's retirement.

He stopped and stared up at the building, mentally running through what he knew about it. It was an L-shaped structure with two floors. On ground level was the storage section of the building and not the area he was interested in. The whole second floor was a studio room turned recreational area for the members of Carlotta's gang. The windows on the second floor were boarded up like the building was condemned, but Erik knew that was just to deter curiosity.

Slipping around the perimeter, he found the shadowy side of the building and placed a hand on the exterior wall. The bricks were slightly worn with age, the mortar between them crumbling away to provide convenient handholds. As he scaled up the side of the wall toward a window ledge, he listened and counted the voices. Somewhere between twenty to thirty men were enjoy themselves on the second floor.

Anticipation mingled with a heady rush of revenge, fueling his quiet, spider like ascent toward the window. Anyone who saw him now would run the other way screaming. He pulled himself onto the small brick ledge outside the boarded up window and peered in through a knothole in the wood.

So many people, all of them tied to Carlotta. If he killed one, that would serve his business purpose. If he killed all of them, Carlotta would tremble in fear and helplessness. No one would be allowed to hurt Christine and go free.

Christine. He leaned his head back against the bricks and took a silent breath. She only wanted one death. One.

He wanted all of them dead. For her.

His mental casing of the area was through. Without hesitation, he slammed his elbow into the boards, splintering the wood barrier. He slipped inside while everyone was still gawking in confusion.

Erik's gun was in hand before his feet touched the floor. Three bullets left the barrel and three men fell to the ground, clutching their chests, hearts pierced by the metal projectiles. He had excellent marksmanship.

Someone rushed for the door leading to the first floor, but Erik stepped in his way. He pulled his knife out from the sheath at his thigh and slit the man's throat as he tried to escape. Erik had cut off their escape. Checkmate.

A few of the men tried to attack, but he shot bullets calmly into their heads. When he ran out of ammo, he holstered his gun and turned on the remaining men. Fifteen died by shooting, one by knife. Fourteen left out of the original thirty. He still had a chance to get his hands dirty.

One man made a dash toward the window Erik had entered through. It was the only other way out of the room besides the door. Angrily, Erik's hand whipped out and his lasso closed around the man's neck. He jerked back on the rope and there was a horrid snap and gurgle. The man slid to the floor.

Lucky thirteen. Thirteen more and his Christine would be safe from the clutches of that heartless bitch forever. Honestly, he would have killed countless more for that satisfaction.

But thirteen was a good a number as any.

His remaining weapon was the sharpened hunting knife he clutched in his gloved hand. He stepped toward the trembling men. One of them pulled a gun on him, but his grip was so weak that when he shot, the bullet barely grazed Erik's shoulder. The pain only served to heighten his anger and he charged forward, slicing and stabbing at his targets.

Within a few minutes, there were no survivors. Erik stood amidst the carnage and absently wiped his blade off on his black pants before slipping it back into the sheath. He scanned the room to make sure no one was left and his eyes caught on the lasso around the dead man's neck.

Grinning, he grabbed the long end of the rope and dragged the corpse over to the middle of the room. An old, metal and wood fan circled lazily attached to the ceiling. He stood on a nearby chair to tie the long part of the lasso to the fan's rotor. Stepping back to survey his handiwork, he nodded. The corpse now dangled from the lasso, making slow circles in the center of the room.

Puddles of blood coated the floor and he stepped in them without worrying about the state of his shoes. He slipped back out the window and climbed down the brick wall again under the cover of night. It wasn't until he was a good distance away from the building that he heard the frantic yelling. This message had been discovered.

Nadir opened the front door to come face to face with a blood splattered mask, Erik peering at him blankly from behind it. An aura of volatility pulsed around Erik. He looked like a wounded animal, ready to snap at a moment's notice. Nadir tried to quell the instinctive fear he felt staring straight into his dark eyes. "Where is she?"

At that moment, Christine hurried into the living room, chatting nonchalantly. "Nadir, I think I heard a knock at the door and-"

Erik's eyes focused on her and she halted in mid-step. Blood was smeared across the visible half of his face, trailing onto the mask and staining his clothes. Shocked, she rushed forward to grab him by the coat sleeve and drag him to the stairs. "Look at you! Are you hurt?! Come on, take your shoes off and let's get you cleaned up."

Christine pulled Erik into her room and toward the connecting bathroom. She shut the door once they were in the bathroom and she turned on him with single-minded purpose.

She tugged his gloves off quickly as they were the worst of his attire and tossed them into an empty laundry hamper. As she worked at removing his coat with swift efficiency, she said, "I can't believe so much blood was in a single person. I hope you didn't make him suffer too-"

She had just peeled off his overcoat, blazer, and vest and tossed them into the hamper when his mouth descended upon hers, silencing her instantly. His tongue slipped into her mouth, his kiss demanding and unrestrained. He stepped closer to her, pushing her against the door with his movement. When he cupped her cheek, angling his head slightly to continue the kiss, her knees trembled.

There was no denying him. His scent and lips flooded her senses and before she knew it, she was shivering so badly she felt her legs would give out. He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the rug, not caring that they were still in the bathroom. A fractured thought invaded her mind as he tugged at the hem of her loose shirt, stripping her of the garment. How could this be Erik?

In his desperation, her bra was lost. His hands were everywhere, caressing her smooth skin greedily. When she reached up to remove his mask, he evaded her before kissing her again with the same overwhelming intensity that left her dazed. His kisses trailed down her throat and she gasped when he bit her ear. "Erik-"

She could hear his ragged, uneven breathing centimeters from her ear, but her attention was focused on his left hand. The hand he had just slid down the front of her pants and passed her underwear. When he found her wet, she arched toward him involuntarily. Her body was completely attuned to the strokes of his fingers and she grabbed him by the shirt, jerking him down to meet her lips.

While he was distracted, she unclasped his pants and ran her hand under the elastic band of his boxers. She half-expected him to pull away, ruining the mood, but was pleased when a strangled sort of groan escaped his lips and he quickened his strokes eagerly. When her hand closed around him, smooth and hard, he almost lost what little control he still had. His mouth found her breasts and he teased her nipples with his tongue, making her moan once more, hand working in time to his strokes.

"Faster," she panted and he obliged, the sweet pressure within her was building. When the climax came, she arched toward him, shuddering with release. He followed her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and groaning as his whole body tensed. They stayed in that position for a minute, breathing hard and bodies warm and relaxed.

She removed her hand, awkwardly looking for something to clean herself. Her search was hampered by Erik clinging to her tightly, his ear pressed between her breasts as he listened with his eyes closed. "Erik?"

He looked up at her, eyes drooping tiredly. One corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. "Nothing. Sorry, bathroom floor and all."

She grabbed a nearby towel to wipe her hand as she sat up, half naked. "Don't worry. I was just surprised… you're not normally this bold. I enjoyed it."

"Hm," was his reply as he picked her up off the floor and carried her to the bed. He climbed in with her and curled up.

"You've still got blood on your mask." She commented, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Take it off."

When she stretched out a hand to remove the half mask, he only tensed for a second. She smiled at him encouragingly, tossing the mask onto the nightstand. "Much better."

She placed a kiss on the sunken portion of his nose before rolling back over to sleep. Just before she slipped into dreams, she could have sworn she heard him whisper how much he loved her.

Christine woke up a few hours later when the bed shifted with a change of weight. She glanced up blurrily to see Erik on the edge of the bed about to stand. "What's going on?"

He glanced over at where she was propped up on her elbows, the sheet covering her half naked body. "It's late. I need some sleep. It's been a long day."

Reaching out her arms toward him, she whined drowsily, "Aw, sleep with me. Don't you like it here?"

"I have a home, Christine," he replied, standing up and crossing around the bed to the nightstand. When he grabbed his mask, she put her hand on top of his, making him freeze.

"You can't call that one room hole in the ground a home," she insisted, unbuttoning her jeans as she stood up. He stepped back, unsure why she was shedding what little clothes she had left. She wore only her panties as she brushed passed him to her closet. He gawked at her, eyes consuming every inch of exposed flesh, lingering on the healing scar on her side.

Pulling a simple, white nightgown out of her closet, she held it up to slip it over her head, but paused when she glimpsed Erik out of the corner of her eyes. Grinning, she let it go and it fell to the ground in a pile.

"It's nice to sleep naked sometimes, I find." She purred as she walked toward him slowly. The mask he held loosely in his hand dropped back to the nightstand as she approached. "You should stay. I might get cold later."

She sidestepped him to crawl back under the blankets. A few seconds of squirming later, she tossed her underwear near his feet and sent him a sly smile. His brain stopped working instantly and he all but dove back into the bed, spurred on by her playful laughter. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly on the mouth, cutting off her giggles. Her lips still twitched in an uncontrollable smile.

She broke away to murmur, "Erik, I want you to live here with me. No more talk of darkness, okay? You don't need to go back to that room under the Opera House."

He grew silent for so long that she had to glance up to make sure he had heard her. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. Slowly, awkwardness seeped into her and she blushed, hiding her face in his shirt. "If you don't want to, that's up to you. But I really love falling asleep and waking up with you. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

His fingers slipped under her chin, angling her face up so he could see her. He wore an expression that was both serious and gentle. "I have a condition."

"What?"

Erik glanced up toward the window the assassin had climbed in through the night before and she followed his gaze. "I want you to sell this house and move into a new one. It must have full security features and be in a safe, undisclosed location. I love you too much to risk your life again."

"Erik, my enemies will be able to find me regardless…"

Placing a finger over her lips, he whispered. "If only I could lock you in a tower to be mine alone."

"I'm not a princess. Anyway, Nadir looks after me," she felt him stiffen when she mentioned Nadir's name and she caressed both sides of his face with her hands. "But if it'll make you happy, we'll look at house tomorrow. Okay?"

"We?" he repeated, slowly.

"You know what kind of security will stop a hit-man, right? So quit complaining," Christine ran her hand up under his shirt. He jerked back in surprise, but she kept moving her hands along his chest. "Now, what would I have to do to get you to lose this shirt?"

The next afternoon, Christine harassed Nadir into taking her to Madame Giry's so she could see Meg. As soon as they stepped through the entrance, she noticed a change in the atmosphere of the room. All the noise in the club stopped, leaving only the background music from the speakers as Christine looked around with forced nonchalance.

No one came to greet her. She walked further into the club confidently, scanning the area for any signs of Meg or Madame Giry. In her singleminded search, she almost bumped into a man in a business suit. He quickly shuffled back out of her way, all but climbing onto his seat to avoid the collision. Christine froze in place, narrowly missing the man. "Sorry."

The fear in his eyes was easily readable, even for her. She stepped back to give him some room. "Are you okay?"

"M-my apologies, Miss Daae. Please forgive my rudeness," he stammered, lowering his frightened eyes.

Christine arched an eyebrow. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault. Enjoy your drink."

She swept across the room, her steps quick. Whispers swirled around behind her back as she fought to keep her face blank. Nadir remained close to her, eyes scanning the room interestedly. She muttered to him, "What's going on here?"

"Couldn't tell you. But I have a hunch." He shrugged and nodded his head toward Meg, who had just entered from the back room.

The blonde woman locked eyes with Christine and strode over to them. She shoved her fists onto her hips and glared. "Is it true?"

"What?" Christine asked, still bewildered. Meg eyed her for a moment, hands propped on her hips. Finally, she motioned them to the isolated booth in the dark corner of the bar area. Christine followed with Nadir and they all sat in the shadows. As soon as she was out of view, the buzz of activity slowly commenced within the club again.

She leaned forward on the table and demanded, "Just what is going on here, Meg?"

"They say that Erik killed 30 of Carlotta's best at the old warehouse yesterday night." Meg whispered heatedly. "It had to be him. He left his trademark."

When Christine stared at her, obviously confused, Meg explained, "The Punjab lasso. A man was hung from the ceiling fan. Very macabre."

Silence settled on the three of them. Finally, Meg breathed, "I didn't want to believe it. He's supposed to be retired. I mean, he hasn't killed like this since… well, since the last time your mom asked him to do a hit for her."

Christine stiffened in her seat reflexively. "You saw how Carlotta treated me. I needed to set an example."

"But thirty men, Christine?! There was an inch of blood soaked into the carpet!" Meg hissed. "And using Erik like that…"

"I hired him as a professional hit-man to kill ONE man." Christine ground out between clenched teeth. "Strictly business. It had nothing to do with our relationship."

"Oh? I've never heard of him going ape-shit like that over normal clients' hits." Meg tapped the table repeatedly. "It might have been just business for you, but I doubt Erik can make the distinction as easily."

In Christine's mind, Meg's words triggered the memory of the previous night's frenzied exchange between her and Erik. Her cheeks flushed bright red as she remembered how unstable and passionate he'd seemed. Not at all like the calm, collected man had she known until now. Meg's eyebrows rose on her forehead at the embarrassment on Christine's face. "What's that look about? Did something happen between you two?"

Christine shook her head quickly, trying to avert their attention away from her. "Tell me all that you know about his attack on Carlotta's warehouse."

"Are you sure you want to know?" Meg asked. "It's pretty gory. From what I've heard, he hasn't gotten this carried away for years. You Daae women really know how to set him off, huh?"

Pursing her lips into an irritated frown, Christine grumbled, "Just tell me, alright? I don't need these little jabs."

Meg rolled her eyes and sat back against her bench. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Later that night, Erik returned to Christine's house from a long day of work and packing boxes of his belongings. He found Nadir seated in the living room, reading a magazine. "You can go home, Nadir. I'll watch over her tonight. Return in the morning."

Nadir eyed him curiously as he stood up from the couch and stretched. "Heard about your hit."

Erik paused, one foot on the stairs, his hand on the railing. "Word travels fast. Good."

"No one will even look at Christine for fear of your wrath." Nadir continued, idly. "She's pretty upset right now. You might want to choose your words carefully."

Erik shot him a glare over his shoulder. "When I want your advice, Persian, I'll ask for it."

Sighing, Nadir walked toward the front door, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't see why I bother. You'll probably fuck it up anyway. Lock the door behind me, genius."

Erik frowned deeply and did as he said, but not because he'd told him to. He found Christine sitting in bed, her blankets drawn up around her as if she were cold. Concerned, he strode toward her, reaching his hands out. She flinched away from him slightly and he froze mid-step. "Are you afraid of me?"

She glared up at him defiantly. "I heard how you slaughtered those men. Did you think that was what I wanted?"

He watched as she wrapped the blanket closer around her body. "You asked me to-"

"I asked you to kill one man." Christine snapped, a look between anger and fear shining in her eyes. She was a wounded mouse caught between the wall and a hungry snake. She could attack, even if she was afraid. "How could you kill like it was nothing? All those people…"

Something inside him snapped. She was looking at him with eyes full of loathing, for herself and him. He couldn't understand it. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he pulled her to her feet to stand in front of him. "What you do mean! I'm a hit-man. You've know that from the beginning! How is this a surprise?!"

"You came to me covered in their blood, Erik," she stated, pain obvious on her face. "I can't understand a man who doesn't know the difference between love and death."

"I killed them for you. Now Carlotta will never risk harming you again." He protested, angrily. "That's the way of this world! If they attack you, you attack them back and beat them harder than they did you so they know the consequences."

"I didn't want that!" She yelled at him, then turned away. "I can't look at you right now."

The words cut straight through him. Those words that he'd heard countless times as a child. She might have tossed them out thoughtlessly, but they were too similar to the ones used by his mother.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around roughly into his arms. It was more restraint than embrace as he pinned her arms to her side. He kissed her hard, thoroughly invading her mouth. After a second of futile struggling in his grip, she went completely still.

He winced as her teeth bit into his lower lip and he pulled back from the kiss with a dribble of blood escaping the tiny cut. A drop of his blood was smeared along the corner of her mouth and she glared up at him accusingly. "You're a murderer. All you know is violence."

"Is that the limit of your love?" He demanded, voice rasping deep as his tongue darted out to clean the blood from the bite on his lip. Her only reply was the continued glare. "That's unfortunate. You could accept my hideous face, but you can't accept what you already knew about me. You know I'm a killer. Or did you think Buquet's death was for dramatic effect?"

Christine held perfectly still in his arms. They would only continue to hurt each other if they said anymore tonight. Somewhere in her heart, she was already crying for his forgiveness for the cruel words she'd said. But pride and anger refused to give in so easily.

When he lowered his face to hers again, she turned her face away from his, lips firmly shut. His heart sank at the desperation in her actions and he trailed kisses along her jaw. His sad whisper tickled her ear, "I love you. I would have killed a hundred more if it would keep you safe."

Before she could respond, his arms and lips were gone. She glanced up to see him walking out of her bedroom. Without turning around, he said, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

She remained silent as he shut the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long. I'm finally back in California and out of college for the summer, but then I forgot what the next chapter was supposed to be about. Good thing I talk to Sara about this stuff and she can remind me. This chapter should be called "Everyone picks on Nadir," because that's really what it's all about.

**Chapter Thirteen: Now and Then**

Christine searched blindly around the dark, wet area, hands grasping out in hopes of finding something. The liquid surrounding her was warm and slimy around her ankles. Her groping hand met with a curved wall made of damp bricks that stretched up higher than her head. She strained her eyes peering up into the abyss of darkness above her.

Strange water spewed from an unknown source and the surface rose slowly to mid-calf as she patted her way around. Her stomach sank in terror when she realized the brick wall enclosed her in a full circle.

She ran her fingers along the mortar trying to find crevices to use as climbing holds, but she only succeeded in clawing frantically at the slick walls. Her ribcage heaved from exertion and panic, eyes wild in the darkness. The water was up to her knees now and disgustingly lukewarm.

There was a screeching, scraping of rock overhead and a shaft of weak light illuminated the area. Her fears were confirmed: she was at the bottom of a well with a heavy, stone slab keeping out the sun. She glanced down at her legs. Reflections of the light created tiny flecks of white against the dark red liquid encasing her up to the thighs. Blood.

She turned her face upward and squinted. The circular opening of the well looked straight up into an overcast sky. A silhouetted figure leaned over the lip of the well, staring down at her. The only distinguishable feature from the shadowy head was a patch of white gleaming on the right half of the man's face. A wave of relief washed over Christine as she stretched up her arms and yelled, "ERIK! I'm stuck, get me out of here!"

Surprisingly, he made no move to help her. She waited for him to drop a rope or get a ladder, but he remained in place, peering down at her without expression. The wet lapping at her stomach told her the blood was still rising. "If you're mad about earlier, we'll talk about it! Just help me!"

Still no response. Christine flailed her fists, hitting the surface and sending a splash of blood up to hit her face. Disgusted, she choked on a drop of the coppery liquid, gagging at the taste. The blood was rising faster now, easily climbing passed her chest and up to her collar. "Erik! Hurry!"

After staring at her a moment longer, he turned and disappeared from her line of sight. As the blood continued to creep higher, Christine watched the stone lid slid slowly back over the circle of light. Craning her neck up as far as it could to keep the blood from overtaking her mouth and nose, Christine cried desperately for help. She must have yelled his name through frightened sobs countless times before the blood quietly slipped over her head.

She couldn't breathe.

Christine jolted awake so violently she fell out of bed, legs and arms tangled in her sheets. When she frantically struggled to free herself from the blankets and sheets, she only managed to get more tangled in the cloth. Finally, she went limp and curled up into a ball on the ground. Burying her face in the blankets, she cried long, stomach heaving sobs that racked her body.

"Christine?" Erik cautiously opened the door to check on her. "You yelled my name. And that thud-"

He caught sight of her balled up on the carpet and quickly rushed over to her, dropping to his knees beside her. Kneeling over her, he helped unwind the bedding from her limbs, murmuring to her, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me," she whimpered, despite the fact that she was turning toward him as if she wanted to be held. He wiped her eyes with the corner of his shirt sleeve and easily placed her back on the bed. When he turned to pick up the fallen blankets, her hand darted out to intertwine with his. He glanced down at their interlocked fingers and then met her eyes. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Don't leave. Don't go."

Sighing tiredly, he had to stretch out to full arm span with his free hand to avoid letting go of her while retrieving the blankets. After a few failed swipes, he finally had to use his leg and foot to drag the sheets closer before he could reach them with his free arm. He snatched the sheets and managed to spread them back over her with one hand as she clung to the other.

Once she was tucked back into bed, he knelt close to examine her with concern. "Honestly, you love making me worry. What would I do if you reopened your stitches?"

She closed her eyes and a pained crease appeared between her eyebrows. Her grip on his hand tightened as she murmured in a confused, sleepy voice. "There was so much blood. You left me in the dark. I couldn't breathe and you just left me there."

Her hurt, halting words cut him deeply and he wrapped her hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to the tips of her fingers. "I would never leave you, Christine. It was just a nightmare. You have nothing to fear from darkness."

Tears welled up in her eyes as he kissed her hand again, holding it tightly in his grip. She didn't reply and after a moment, he said in a tentative voice, "You know, when you were little you wouldn't go anywhere alone when it was dark. Your mother had to hold your hand to walk you down the darkened hallway to your room."

"Most children are afraid of the dark, though. That's natural. There's an instinctual fear of getting lost in that darkness and never escaping." He paused, making sure she was still awake before he continued slowly, "I was afraid of brightly lit places. Mirrors. Anything that would allow me to be seen."

She didn't open her eyes as she breathed, "Erik, I love you. But I don't understand you. I don't know if I'll ever be okay with killing. I just start thinking about the people getting hurt in this stupid power struggle and wonder if there could have been a different way of dealing with it."

"Christine," he started in a firm voice. "Killing is a necessary evil in this business. Your mother knew it. Your father knew it. I'm mad as hell that neither of them taught you about it, but it's too late for that now. I have years of experience working as a mafia man and hired killer. I know the proper way of dealing with scum like Carlotta."

"And what makes you any different from them?" Christine demanded, opening her eyes and fixing him with a glare. "If Carlotta is scum, what does that make you? What does it make ME?"

"It's not about who has the better morals, Christine. This is about power and survival," he reached out a gloved hand to brush a strand of her thick, brown hair away from her face. "I'd gladly be known as a demon if it will keep you safe. I've killed for stupider reasons than to protect the woman I love."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and her cheeks warmed under the intensity of his hooded gaze. He leaned closer to her, eyes fixed on her full, enticing lips. Christine's thoughts buzzed around in her head like a swarm of bees, all darting away from her as she tried to latch onto one.

His lips were an inch above hers when she shook free of the magnetic desire ladling her brain. But even as she opened her mouth to protest, he brought his lips down upon hers. Her words turned to a muffled moan as his tongue swept passed her lips, his hand caressing the side of her face lightly. When her moan ended in a whimper, Erik retreated, resting his forehead against hers.

"I can't forget that easily, Erik," she breathed heavily, acutely aware that his mouth was still hovering close to hers. "Kissing isn't going to make me any less confused."

His eyes searched hers for a moment before he sighed and forced himself to his feet. "I thought you were taking things too well. You need time to accept what you've learned. My offer still stands: take over for your parents or liquidate your share of the business and disappear to lead a normal life."

A surge of sadness overwhelmed her at the idea of never seeing him again. How could she think of leading a normal life with any other man after knowing him? Her very soul gravitated to his, drawn by passion the likes of which she'd never felt before. Love and lust were too weak to describe the jumbled mass of emotions they shared.

"I will love you whatever you choose." He turned and strode decisively out of her bedroom. The door shut behind him and she hid her face in her pillow to smother any sobs that might escape as she cried.

Christine finally managed to fall back to sleep a few hours later, exhausted from crying and trying to sort out the madness of recent events. She meant to wake up when her alarm clock went off at 8 AM, which would have given her about four hours of sleep.

When she woke up on her own at 11 AM, she groggily looked at the clock only to find it flashing 12:00 in digital numbers. Either there had been a power surge or someone had unplugged the clock. Her bet was on Erik unplugging the clock to make her sleep longer. Truthfully, she needed the rest after her mental breakdown, but still, coming into a woman's room while she was asleep to mess with her things? Not cool.

Grumbling under her breath, she heaved herself to her feet and padded downstairs in her pajamas. She found Nadir sitting on the couch in the living room. He glanced at her when she approached. "Morning, sunshine."

"Go fuck yourself, Nadir."

"OUCH!" he placed an open hand over his heart and sent her a hurt expression from behind his sunglasses. "You're a cruel mistress, Boss."

She failed to look apologetic and he shrugged, going back to his game of Solitaire. "That's fine. It's not like Erik didn't tell me worse before he stormed out of here this morning. I can only imagine what happened to put both of you in pissy moods. I mean, sure, Erik's always a crazy bitch, but you're generally a stable, happy person."

Sighing, Christine rubbed at her eyes and asked, "So he's gone already?"

Nadir moved a card to another stack and ventured, "Yeah, he said something about having business to take care of. I never really ask what he does for work these days. He's always going on about having stuff to do, but you know what? I think he just shoots cans for target practice out in the boonies or some shit like that. Maybe builds giant models out of Legos. Like a scale model of the Deathstar or a life-sized bust of Chewbacca. Real intricate shit."

"You've put a lot of thought into this…" Christine eyed the bald man warily for a moment before sinking into the recliner nearby. She leaned back and threw her arm over her eyes.

Nadir peered at her over his glasses and asked, "So, what's got you in drama queen mode today?"

"I just can't get over what he did, Nadir," she replied. "We clearly agreed on one person, and that was bad enough, but thirty? What kind of person can kill thirty people like it was nothing?"

"A damned good hitman?" Nadir offered, but when she sent him a glare, he reworked his answer. "Look, Christine, I know you don't want to hear this, but Erik handled the situation masterfully. One death might not have been enough to convince Carlotta to give in. It could have dissolved into a series of back and forth attacks with more people killed in the long run, including innocents."

Christine grew silent, pondering this new opinion, when the phone rang in the kitchen. She retrieved it and saw on the caller I.D. that it was from the police department. Frantically, she carried the wireless phone back to Nadir and hissed, "It's the police department! What do I do?"

He raised one eyebrow at her as he flipped over a card. "Answer it."

"What?" she demanded. The phone continued to ring in her hands.

"Answer the phone and act normal."

Clearing her throat, Christine held the phone to her face and said in an extremely cheerful voice, "Hello! This is Christine!"

The person on the other line responded hesitantly, taken back by her high pitched tone. "Yes, hello Miss Daae, this is the city police department. We are calling about the incident that took place in your house about a week ago while you were out of town."

"Out of town?" Christine parroted, confused. "Which incident are you talking about?"

"The murder, of course," the police officer replied. "A man named Joseph Buquet was murdered in your front room. We couldn't get a hold of you, so we called your business. Your assistant provided us with your alibi and all the necessary proof of your innocence."

"Well, that's good to know. Then why are you calling me?"

"The city still needs to ask you a few questions. Purely procedure, I assure you, but we need verbal statements on the record from the home-owner. So, if you aren't busy today, you can come down to the police station and we'll get this whole ordeal squared away."

Christine placed her hand over the mouth piece and squeaked at Nadir, "They want me to come down to the station!"

"Then we'll go," Nadir grinned as she fumbled with the phone before returning it to her face.

Christine asked in her best business voice, "When should I come in?"

The police department was designed in a symmetrical layout inside a large, rectangular building. When they arrived, a policewoman at the front desk led Christine back through a door while Nadir sat next to a small coffee table and read a copy of Cosmo Girl. As she followed the officer into the hallway, Christine wondered how Nadir was going to help her if something bad happened. However, Nadir seemed perfectly content to thumb through the pages of interviews with teenaged boy actors, so she tried to forget her fears while the officer chatted at her politely.

The hallway opened out onto an area littered with desks and people working in uniform. The receptionist officer led her toward a door further toward the back of the office area and Christine followed her closely, not wanting to get sidetracked by all the activity. They were halfway to the door when the officer stopped abruptly, almost causing Christine to collide with her. Apparently someone had called the officer's name, and she turned toward the interruption.

Raoul was hurrying across the office, darting around desks in his haste to reach them. His wide, blue eyes were locked on Christine as he made his way toward them. "Mary, I got this one. Routine questioning, right?"

"Ah, Raoul," Mary, the officer Christine had been following, smiled at Raoul, hesitantly. "Are you sure? Don't you have something more important to be doing?"

Raoul eyed Christine as a lopsided grin spread across his face. "Yeah, no problem. I was about to go home early anyway. This gives me a reason to work more."

Mary handed Raoul the clipboard with paper on it and nodded to Christine before walking back the way they'd came. Christine turned to Raoul, who was flipping through the papers on the clipboard. He opened the door to the back room and held it for her as she entered.

The walls were white and blank inside the room and the only furniture was a single table and two chairs placed across from each other. Christine stood near the table as Raoul shut the door. "So they finally got a hold of you, huh? The department's been trying to find you since Buquet's death."

"Why didn't you tell them where I was?" she asked, moving out of the way when he walked passed her to sit at one of the chairs. "You knew I was at Madame Giry's."

"Not my place to say. You aren't my case," Raoul scooted his chair in after sitting and gestured for her to sit in the empty chair. "Have a seat, Miss Daae."

The cold, professional tone with which he said her name sent a shudder of foreboding down her spine and she crossed her arms with forced indignation to hide her reaction. "I'd prefer to stand. I was told this wouldn't take long."

"Suit yourself," he tapped his pen against the clipboard and grew silent as he stared at the paper. Finally, he dropped the clipboard to the table and folded his hands together as he stared up at her. "This report is a waste of time. Let's talk about something productive, shall we?"

Christine arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Raoul pointed at her for a moment before touching his chin in thought. "Thirty people were murdered two days ago out at the docks."

"So I've heard." Christine fought to keep her face free of anything but polite worry.

Raoul stood up so quickly his chair scraped on the floor from the movement. "Don't act like this is news to you, Christine! I saw the aftermath; the whole crime scene was practically TAGGED by your Phantom! He even left his lasso around a dead man's neck and hung him from the ceiling fan."

"Don't be absurd, Raoul. The Phantom hasn't killed in nearly 15 years, why would he strike again without any warning?"

"Exactly. The Phantom hasn't done a hit this large and messy since September 18th, 1991. Sixteen years ago, he massacred over fifty members of a rival gang on orders from Elizabeth Daae." Raoul leaned forward across the table, hand pressed flat on top of the clipboard. "It was a bloodbath. And it seems like he only goes out of his way to kill like that when a woman orders him to. A very special woman."

Christine's hands slowly curled into fists that trembled with the effort it took not to slap Raoul across his boyish face. "Do you like your job?"

This question took him by surprise and he gave her a confused look. "What?"

"Your JOB, Raoul. Do you enjoy being a cop? Do you enjoy the living it provides you? How about your father? Does he like being the chief of police for this city? Yes?" Christine stepped forward to slam her open palm against the metal surface of the desk. Her curly hair fell over her shoulders from the action and she growled, "Then I suggest you stop slandering my loved ones with this stupidity and do your job properly! I wasn't called in here for this and I'll make sure your superior knows about it!"

"There's no reason to stick up for someone like him, Christine!" Raoul reached for her hand but she slapped it away. "He's a monster. He doesn't know what love is, even if you think he does. He's just using you-"

Christine strode to the door and paused with her hand on the doorknob. Without turning around, she said in a deadly calm voice, "I won't forget how you treated me when I was in your territory, Raoul."

"Christine, wait-" Raoul hurried around the table to stop her, but she slammed the door shut in his face. By the time he caught up to her, she was standing safely behind Nadir in the waiting room and he hesitated when the bald man glared at him over his sunglasses. Steeling his resolve, Raoul took a step forward only to have Nadir shake his head once in warning and move directly between them.

"Alright, that's enough for today. If you still have questions, feel free to contact Miss Daae's personal assistant." Nadir handed Raoul a business card as Christine slipped outside then followed her. She was standing a few feet away from the entrance, tapping her foot on the cement when Nadir reached her. She glanced over his shoulder irritated before sighing.

"Good, he's gone." Christine ran a hand through her thick hair, shoving it out of her face. "I can't believe that guy. Sometimes he's nice, sometimes he's a jerk."

"Cops. Damned if I can tell one mood from the next." Nadir walked beside her as they made their way to his car. Christine slid into the backseat while Nadir got behind the wheel. He draped one arm over the back of the seats and turned to address her. "Well? Home then?"

For some reason, her mind traveled back to her discussion with Raoul only minutes before. She could have easily turned Erik in for the murders, she was as close to a witness they would ever have for his crimes. And they wouldn't have to worry about her dying mysteriously before the trial. She would be surprised if he could bring himself to kill her even if her silence meant his freedom.

She loved him. How could she ever put him in danger? Betraying him hadn't even crossed her mind as an option.

And while she didn't agree with his frivolous killing sprees, Christine needed to understand him. The desire to know more about Erik's past was an undeniable part of her now. Why should she fight it when she knew she would inevitably return to him, hungry to share in his life?

Biting her lower lip, Christine buckled her seatbelt and said, "Let's go to Madame Giry's first. It's time I collected my things."

Thirty minutes later, Christine burst into her home, duffel bag full of clothes slung over her shoulder. Nadir shut the front door behind him, confused by her eagerness to be home. She charged up the stairs, nearly tripping under the weight of her duffel bag. Once inside her bedroom, she shut the door and tossed her bag onto the bed. Rifling through it, she found the diary and flipped through the entries.

Her mother had kept the diary for more than a year to fill up all the pages. Christine's hand stopped on the page labeled with the date, September 18th, 1991. Taking a deep breath, she started to read her mother's handwriting.

Elizabeth walked hurriedly out of the elevator into the fourth floor of the building. Taking a key out of her skirt suit pocket, she unlocked the door to Erik's apartment and stepped inside, her pretty high heels clicking on the floor. The tiles of the entry way, normally so clean they glimmered, were smeared with blood-stained footprints that trailed off onto the plush, white carpet.

A thrill of fear and excitement coursed through her as she followed the blood trail down the hall to Erik's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and when she neared it, a black, gloved hand flung it open. She stood staring up at Erik, his mask streaked with rusty red blood.

Smiling up at him through her eyelashes, she stepped closer to him and brushed her hand across his left cheek. "I heard from my informant that you completed the hit earlier today. I'm so happy you did this for me."

He gazed down at her with dark eyes glazed with a shield of blankness. There was something in the hunch of his shoulders and purposefully empty look that reminded her of a caged, wild animal. He didn't respond, so she continued in a light, happy voice. "It really helped me out that you decided to attack the DeRosa's. They've been hounding me for months and they refused negotiations."

"Yes," he said finally, though every word seemed to be a struggle. "It was all you talked about."

"You don't say," Elizabeth leaned in and he stiffened at her nearness, hands at his sides. When her body brushed against his, a tiny tremor shook him before he control himself. "Now, for your reward."

She reached up to rest her hands on his shoulders, tugging him closer to press a kiss against his face, running a hand along his jaw tenderly. When she let him go and stepped back, she smiled up at him with sparkling brown eyes that made him weak. "You always take care of us, Erik. You're the only one I can trust in this world of criminals. Thank you."

She turned to leave and he followed her slowly. When they reached the door, he asked in a quiet voice. "Where is she?"

Elizabeth paused with her hand on the door and looked at him. He met her gaze without a hint of hesitation. The one subject he would not overlook. "Where is Christine? Is she safe? You didn't bring her here, did you?"

Frowning at the sudden change in demeanor, Elizabeth said, "She's at home with her nanny. Honestly, Erik! She's all you seem to care about these days. Should I be jealous of a four year old?"

He gave her a surprised look. "No. I just-"

"It was a joke," Elizabeth smoothed her shiny, curly hair while examining her reflection in a nearby window. She cast a critical glance his way and he reflexively fidgeted in place, rubbing at a dark splotch of blood staining his shirt. Despite their similar ages, she always managed to make him feel like a grungy, teenaged boy standing next to a beautiful, mature woman.

"For God's sake, Erik, clean yourself up." She sighed with a roll of her eyes. "How can you get so messy on a hit when you can kill the bastards just as easily with a gun?"

"That they die isn't important-"

"It's about **how** they die," Elizabeth finished for him, interrupting in a mocking tone. She smirked at him as she jerked open the door. "Yes, yes, I know your thoughts on the subject. You're just as sadistic as your mother."

He flinched as she shut the door. As soon as she was down the hall and on the elevator again, Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. A woman's velvety, sweet voice answered from the other side. "Hello?"

"Maddy, this is Liz. I need your advice." Elizabeth watched the floor levels tick away as the elevator descended.

"What's the matter, love?" Madeleine asked, a slight tone of worry entering her voice.

"It's about Erik."

An instant coolness seeped into Madeleine's words, a dulled detachment. "What about him."

Elizabeth traveled down to the first floor and exited the apartment complex. Her black Cadillac waited in front of the building and she got in. "He's growing more distant lately. He jumps between extreme emotion- rage one moment, utter depression the next."

"Are you afraid he's becoming a danger to you?" There was a hint of deadliness in her tone, a sliver of promise. Elizabeth shivered as she realized Madeleine would relish the chance to kill her son. Madness ran in the genes between those two.

Elizabeth stared out the window as the car drove away down the street, considering how to answer. "I don't know. He's such a loose cannon… and he rarely says anything to me."

A clipped laugh escaped the ear piece. "He's never been talkative, Liz honey."

"He's only normal around Christine," Elizabeth sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the car window. "He sings and smiles. She's all he ever talks about if I can get him to say two words together."

After a moment of silence, she breathed in a shaky voice. "I'm worried for my daughter, Maddy. I don't know what to expect from him these days. I know he wouldn't hurt us, but-"

"Shh, dear," Madeleine spoke soothingly into the phone as Elizabeth drew in deep, ragged breaths to calm her nerves. "You knew this day was coming. What do you do with a tool that is no longer useful?"

Closing her dark brown eyes, Elizabeth exhaled slowly. "You get rid of it."

A knock on the door ripped Christine out of the diary's words. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped onto the paper, blurring the last word she had read. Wiping at her face, she shoved the diary under her pillow and cleared her throat. "W-Who is it?"

Nadir opened the door an inch and said, "I just got a call from Meg. She says we have to go to the club later tonight. There's someone Madame Giry wants you to meet. And Carlotta wants to meet with you."

Christine jumped up from her seat and opened the door. "Carlotta? Why?"

Nadir began to answer, then stared at her for a moment. "Were you CRYING alone in your room?"

"What?"

"Fuck. You know what? Don't worry about that bastard. He's not worth the tears," Nadir sighed and waved his hand in the air. "Don't start his emo-kid act too. One whiny bitch around here is plenty."

"What are you talking about?" Christine eyed him as if he were insane.

"Erik." Nadir replied, confused. "He is why you're crying, right? Because he won't have sex with you?"

Christine glared at him, her sadness melting into frustrated anger. "No, but thanks for reminding me. You're such an ass, Nadir."

"ME? I'm not the murderer with commitment issues!"

"He doesn't have commitment issues, you dick! He has INTIMACY issues! Now leave me alone. I have to get ready to deal with that bitch tonight."

"Erik?" Nadir asked, even more puzzled. "I thought you said he wasn't a bitch."

Christine grumbled angrily as she shut the door in Nadir's face. She took a shower and got dressed in a pair of form-fitting, black pants and a flowing, purple kimono shirt. The silky, butterfly print shirt wrapped around and tied in the back with black ribbons, the wrap around cut of the collar dipped low, revealing a hint of her black lace bra.

She applied her make-up and styled her hair with a mousse, leaving it down to fall in ample waves around her shoulders. About an hour later, she came down stairs in her black, heeled boots, slinging a purse over her shoulder. Nadir whistled at her and grinned lecherously. She would have taken his reaction as a compliment, if she wasn't sure he did this to every woman who walked in front of him.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Christine placed one hand on her hip. "Ready to rock?"

"Erik's going to have a heart attack when he sees you." Nadir laughed as they left the house. "The cleavage alone might be enough to kill him."

"I'd tell you not to ogle my breasts if I thought it'd change anything," Christine responded and climbed into the backseat of his car when he held the door open for her.

"You know me too well." Nadir shut the door and walked around the car to get in the driver's seat. "I always look at a woman's boobs before her face. It's just who I am. And you wouldn't want me to change for the world, right?"

"Just drive," Christine sighed, resisting the urge to rub her eyes for fear of damaging her make-up.

Madame Giry's nightclub was as lively as ever when they arrived. Customers were pouring in through the entrance and the door girls were busy taking coats left and right. Christine walked in confidently and waved away the woman who turned to her. "No, I'm fine. Nadir?"

Nadir removed his jacket and placed it in the girl's hands before they walked into the club. The crowd of people parted as Christine walked passed, head up and back straight. Her hair floated behind her as she made her way to the shadowy table in the corner that gave her a good view of the whole club.

She slipped into the booth seat affixed to the wall and crossed her legs with a leisurely movement. A foot away, Nadir leaned against the wall with his muscular arms crossed and scanned the crowd behind his sunglasses. Christine smiled at the picture of collected, professional mafia they made and flipped her hair off her shoulder. He smirked at her sidelong. "We bad."

Nadir offered her his hand and she slapped it lightly as she agreed, "We bad."

Twenty minutes later, Christine was sipping at a mixed drink when Carlotta arrived with Piangi on her arm. She locked eyes with Christine, who draped both arms on the back of the bench seat. Carlotta walked over to her, stopping a few feet away when Nadir moved between them. She nodded to Christine, a tired, pale look on her face. "Miss Daae. Good evening."

Christine assessed the older woman in silence. There was a tight, drawn expression on her face, making the tiny wrinkles around her normally sharp eyes appear even more pronounced. Wisps of gray were threading in through her hair at the temples and the lines of age around her thin lips deepened as she spoke. All these features should have been badges of experience and proof that she had led a strong life, but somehow they looked like telltale hints of weakness at the moment.

There was no way Carlotta was much older than Erik. What kind of life had she led that would have aged her this way?

"Thank you, Carlotta. Would you care to have a drink with me?" Christine gestured to the chair across the table from her. Carlotta nodded once, reluctantly. Piangi moved to hold the chair out as Carlotta sat gracefully.

A waitress came and took Carlotta's drink order before hurrying away. Carlotta turned to Christine. "Shall we get down to business?"

Christine inclined her head and took another drink from her glass. "Sure."

To her credit, Carlotta spoke with only a hint of irritation as she admitted, "I was wrong to provoke you. Obviously, you have more… resources than I do when it comes down to it. Put bluntly, your attack dog is both crazy and dangerous. I had forgotten."

One corner of her lips twitched as Christine fought to keep the smile from her face. "Attack dog?"

"Don't play stupid. The Phantom that wiped out half of my men at the warehouse two days ago." Carlotta replied brusquely. "That monster pretending to be a man."

"Careful," Christine warned in a friendly tone as the waitress returned with Carlotta's drink. "He's important to me. You don't hear me insulting your lover, do you? They're of the same profession."

"Piangi does not kill for fun-"

"And neither does Erik. He kills because people pay him to." Christine snapped before she could check herself. After a deep breath she leaned back in a gesture of forced calm and continued amiably, "That's not important. I spanked your ass and you're here to apologize. So, if you would be so kind."

Back straight and stiff, Carlotta clenched her teeth so hard Christine almost grimaced. "Yes. I… apologize for my disrespect. I've come to assure you that my allegiance lies wwith you."

At this, Piangi handed Nadir a thin, square box made of black leather. Nadir examined it thoroughly before opening it and offering the contents to Christine.

Inside the box was a cushion of fine, red silk. Nestled on top of the cushion was a stunning, elaborate choker made of platinum and diamonds. Christine almost shielded her eyes from the blinding light glinting off the multitude of diamonds woven together into a spider web design. A matching set of intricate, dangling earrings were pinned to the cushion on both sides of the necklace.

Christine glanced from the jewelry to Carlotta and back again, her mouth hanging open in shock. "What's this?"

"I forgot to give you a gift at your welcome party." She motioned to the box of glittering jewels. "This is both an apology and celebration present."

Christine closed the box and took it from Nadir's hands to place it on the table next to her. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

Carlotta smiled as she stood up slowly. "Well, I'm very tired tonight. Now that our business is settled, please excuse me."

She would have watched Carlotta leave the night club, but at that moment Christine was distracted by Madame Giry, who approached with another woman. "Christine, I have someone who would like to meet you. She is an old friend of your mother's."

The woman behind Madame Giry was tall and slender, a body was built for grace and speed. She had long, shiny black hair that fell in waves down to her lower back, her bangs swept back from her elegant face with a gold and ruby hair clip. The look in her piercing, dark eyes reminded her of someone, but she couldn't place the memory.

"Her name is Madeleine," Madame Giry stepped aside and the beautiful, older woman moved to offer her hand to Christine. As soon as the name left Madame Giry's lips, Christine remembered who she looked like. "Madeleine, this is Christine Daae."

"You're Erik's mother," Christine shook Madeleine's hand with a firm, decisive grip. An open, warm smile swept across Madeleine's face, confusing Christine. Based on the account from her mother's diary, Erik's mother was a sneaky, manipulative woman. However, she was currently radiating maternal affection and acceptance.

Madeleine watched Giry walked away across the club before she turned her attention back to Christine. "Yes… well, we all make mistakes, dear. I was young."

Christine was completely dumbstruck by her amused laughter and stared at her as if she were insane. "Excuse me?"

"I hear he's started taking jobs again. That has something to do with you, I suppose." Madeleine ran her hands along the wrinkle-free satin of her dress. She glanced at Christine's face to gauge her reaction. "Why are you gawking at me like that?"

"How can you speak that way about your own son?" Christine demanded, angrily.

Madeleine eyed her in contemplative silence for a moment, absorbing her expressions and emotional reaction. Finally, she shrugged sheepishly and ran a hand through her long, wavy hair. "Of course, you're right. I say these things sometimes, pay me no mind."

Christine sat uneasily as Madeleine slipped into the seat once occupied by Carlotta. She leaned forward to smile conspiratorially at Christine. "So, does my son know he has secured the love of a mafia boss? Like mother like son, I suppose."

"What does that mean?"

Before she could explain, a gloved hand reached out to wrap around Christine's arm and pull her to her feet, spinning her safely behind a familiar figure. Erik positioned himself between her and where Madeleine sat, Nadir was gaping at him in confusion. "What-"

Erik paid Nadir no attention as he glared down at his mother, one hand holding Christine by the arm, keeping her behind him. Madeleine stood from her seat, unfolding to her full height just a few inches shorter than Erik. She crossed her arms and tapped her long, purple fingernails against her skin as she ran her gaze from his feet to the top of his head. "Is this how you greet your mother after 15 years of absence?"

Madeleine shot Christine a look around Erik and said, "Be careful, Christine. If he can treat his mom this way, he can treat any woman this way."

Erik took one step over, cutting between them again. "What are you doing here? I told you never to come back."

"Erik," Christine winced slightly, his grip on her arm tightening as he glared at his mother. Her voice seemed to break his focus and he glanced down at her, loosening his hand around her arm and giving her an apologetic look. The distress and panic in his eyes compelled her to take action. "Excuse us, Madeleine. It's been a long day and I'd like to spend some time alone with my lover."

Christine pulled her arm free of Erik's hold before slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. She then led him toward the front door of the night club without hesitation, leaving Madeleine with a stunned look on her face. Erik murmured in Christine's ear as they walked to the door, "What was she talking to you about? Why is she here?"

"I don't know," Christine replied in a whisper as she pushed open the door and exited out into the cool, breezy night. "She's a strange one. One second she was insulting you, the next she seemed all motherly and kind."

He frowned in thought. "That's her way. Keeps people off balance."

"Well, I don't like it." Christine let go of his hand to rub her hands over her bare arms, shivering in the nighttime air. The short sleeve kimono shirt looked amazing, but it was thin and offered little protection against sudden drops in temperature.

The sound of rustling cloth made her glance at Erik just as he finished removing his heavy, black trench coat. He held it out to her and she smiled shyly up at him. "Are you sure? You won't be cold?"

"What possessed you to dress like that?" Erik helped her slip her arms through the coat sleeves, turning up the coat collar to warm her neck. "It's hardly a shirt at all. I can see your bra."

"Hey! This bra was expensive. And it's not like you're dying to see me in it at home, so I figured someone might appreciate a look." She raised her hands up in a defensive gesture, the sleeves too long for her arms, falling over her hands. They stood a few inches apart, awkward in their nearness.

When she opened her mouth to blurt an apology, he did the same.

"Erik, I'm sorry-"

"I didn't mean to hurt you-"

They both snapped their mouths shut to let the other speak. They stood in eager silence, neither speaking until Christine finally broke the stalemate. "I'm sorry for last night. I've just been under so much stress lately… I know you did what you thought was best. I shouldn't have been so mean to you."

He reached up to brush his hand along the side of her face, but the glove kept him from feeling the softness of her skin on his. Frustrated, he brought his left hand to his mouth and used his teeth to tug the glove free of his hand. He then put his caressed her face again and reveled in the sensation of her cool skin on his warm hand.

Christine reached up and took the glove out from between his teeth and shoved the glove into the coat pocket. When she glanced up again, he ran a finger along her lips lightly before leaning in to cover her mouth with his. He spoke against her lips, "I didn't want to hurt you. I only want to keep you safe. When I saw you with her… just when I think I've protected you, another enemy shows up."

"I wish you'd tell me more about your life, Erik. I can't understand if you don't talk to me," she kissed him once more before resting her head on his shoulder. "This can't work if I'm the only one trying."

He buried his hand into her hair and kissed the top of her head, pausing to breathe in the scent of her. Expensive shampoo and powder mixed with the perfumed smell of her mousse mingled together in an intoxicating aroma. Over all of her scents, his distinctive cologne wafted up from the coat that she was wearing. With her in his arms like this, he found it easy to forget about his problems. She was his escape and his home.

"Erik?" He jolted, his eyes snapping open. He didn't remember closing them. She raised her head to meet his gaze with concern. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

She arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "How much did you get?"

He looked away from her searching gaze. "None."

Before he could protest, she took him by the hand again and tugged him toward the parking lot. "Come on, we're going home right now. And I'm not letting you out of my bed until tomorrow morning."


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: **The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer:** Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** The wait is over. Writer's block sucks hard and videogames really do eat a lot of time if you're not paying attention, but I do so love my Digital Devil Saga! Also, I just saw Phantom of the Opera in Vegas yesterday night. It was amazing and I got a shirt.

**Chapter Fourteen: More Human**

Erik leaned Christine against the bedroom door to kiss her heatedly and the door swung open under their combined weight. The momentum almost made them fall over, but he caught her before she could trip backwards over her own feet. The house was empty and quiet except for Christine's excited laughter as she returned his passionate, hurried kisses.

One arm wrapped around her waist, Erik used his free hand to throw shut the bedroom door. He kicked off his expensive, Brunori shoes and loosened his tie single-handedly while trying to keep their lips connected in a needy kiss. His multitasking made him trip and she pressed both hands against his chest to keep him from falling, the corners of her lips curling into a smile even as he continued their kiss.

When he broke to breathe, she giggled against his lips, gripping his suit by the lapels for balance. "Take me to the bed before we fall over ourselves. And I won't let you have me on the floor this time, barbarian."

He carried her the few steps to the bed and laid her carefully on top of the mattress. When he stood to take off his clothes, she hooked her hand onto the waist of his dress pants and yanked him down to the bed. Off balance, he hastily braced his arms on either side of her, trying to keep from falling on top of her. "What are you-"

Christine moved her hands under his suit jacket, helping him remove it and savoring the feel of his muscles working under his shirt. His hands sought the tie at her back, slipping the ribbon out of its bow. The silk shirt fell open, revealing her pale, beautiful skin, breasts hidden behind her bra made of black lace. He tugged the one glove remaining on his hand free and traced her skin lightly with his fingertips. Goosebumps rose where he trailed his touch and she shivered with anticipation.

His hand stopped at the healing wound on her left side and he carefully touched the stitches, both to see if she was still hurting and to explore the only imperfection on her body. She drew in a hiss of pain mingled with pleasure when he bent close to ghost a soft kiss over her injury.

While she was distracted, his hands moved to unhook her pants, tugging them down an inch before he suddenly stopped and sat back. She gazed at him in confusion as he raked his hand over the left portion of his face, a desperate look in his eyes. "Contraceptive!"

Christine's eyebrows drew together as she propped up on her elbows, her shirt hanging open and bra askew. "Wha?"

"Contraceptives! You know! Condoms, spermicide, pills, pulling out-"

Waving her hands, she interrupted his ranting. "Whoa, slow down. I know what the word means, you don't need to recite ever method known to man." She shrugged out of her shirt and his borrowed overcoat, tossing them to the floor. "I take it you don't have condoms on hand."

He looked at her as if she were insane. "What? No! Do I look like the kind of guy women want to sleep with?"

She shot him an exasperated expression, reaching up to remove his mask. "You do to me. Or at least, you look like the kind of guy I want to sleep with right now."

"But we don't have-"

Christine pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. "I'm on the pill, Erik. So we're fine."

"Pill? Wait, the birth control pill?!" This news upset him more.

"Yeah, I have been since I turned eighteen." She turned her attention to unbuttoning his dress shirt and managed to get the first button undone before his hand stopped her.

"Eighteen! What do- I mean- why are you taking it? Do you have sex with men often?!"

Christine gaped at him in shock and disbelief for a few seconds. When she overcame the first wave of mind numbing rage, she shoved him hard and pointed at him with her finger. "You ass! I take it to regulate my periods, if you MUST know! What the hell, Erik?!"

He seemed relieved by her words and intense reaction. "Oh, that's right. I read somewhere that the pill had other benefits- where are you going?"

Christine was squirming out from under him, reaching for her discarded shirt angrily. Erik placed both hands on her shoulder, stopping her from escaping. She glared up at him. "Do you think I'm some kind of slut?"

"I'm sorry, I was confused," he apologized, running a hand along her cheek and down her neck, noticing the tension in her jaw muscles. "I spoke without thinking. I know you're not a loose woman."

She turned her face away from him, still irritated by his assumption. His pathetic whine was already chipping away at her pride. When his lips skimmed over her throat, the tension dissolved from her muscles against her will. She tried to sound indignant as she grumbled, "Just ask next time. Don't assume that kind of stuff."

His mouth paused near her ear to reply, "You're right. I'm sorry. Your beauty ladles my brain. You are every man's dream… and you're here."

She ran a hand through his hair, arching up toward him until their bodies met. He had pulled her pants down around her knees and was using his thumb to tug her underwear down as well. Her hands returned to his shirt and fumbled with the ungodly number of buttons. She moaned in complaint when she saw his undershirt beneath the dress shirt. "I'll be damned if you don't know how to layer."

When she tried to get him to take off the long sleeve, unbuttoned dress shirt, he hesitated for a moment before slipping out of it. He dropped it to the floor and when he glanced up he saw her staring with wide eyes at the disfigured flesh that extended down the right side of his neck and chest, covering the whole of his right arm. She reached out to tug his undershirt over his head to see the rest of his scarred skin.

Christine examined his deformed, ugly skin, running her fingers from his right temple down to the palm of his right hand. The arm had a slightly atrophied appearance, like there was no meat to protect his bones and tendons from pressing into the surface of his skin. She was amazed at his strength despite the weak look of his arm. Her hand fluttered up from his arm to touch his right pectoral, also misshapen by the birth defect.

A shiver shook his body and she glanced up at him to find his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together in a look torn between sadness and bliss. She cupped his face in both hands and peered up at him as he opened his eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know what to feel." He rested his forehead against hers. "I would have been happy with any type of love, but this…"

"I do love you, Erik."

"But why?" he asked, hesitantly. "I'm not handsome."

"Well, when you say you love me, is it only because of how I look?" Christine returned his question with one of her own, locking her hands together behind his head. "Appearances never last. To be loved only because you're beautiful is just as sad as being hated because you're ugly."

He stared down at her with admiring eyes, then bent forward, covering her lips with a soft, affectionate kiss. Warmth flooded through her at the tenderness behind his actions. She nibbled at his bottom lip as the kiss ended, her hands roaming to his waist. She deftly unclasped the button on his pants and slipped them and the boxers down. Soon they were both completely naked, physically equal with no secrets between them.

His chest pressed down on hers as he steadied his weight on his knees between her parted legs. When he moved his chest to brace his elbows on the bed at her shoulders, her nipples perked as his skin brushing lightly over hers. Using one hand, he cupped one of her breasts, running his thumb over the rosy peak. Christine squirmed under his touch, impatient and needy.

She grasped at his back with both hands, her pretty, rounded nails scratching lightly on his skin. His eyelids drooped shut, head lolling back slightly as he enjoyed every new sensation they shared. A moment later, his mouth was on her skin, kissing and nipping at her collarbone, moving down toward her breasts as his hand trailed along her smooth stomach and lower still.

His hand brought goosebumps to her flesh despite its warmth and she shivered as his fingers played along her lower belly. She jolted in surprise when he reached his goal. Moaning with desire, she clutched at his shoulders while he caressed her intimately, heightening her arousal. Just when she neared an orgasm, he moved to rest between her legs, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees.

They groaned in unison as he slid into her. How many times had he imagined this very moment? Her naked skin on his, the warmth shared and passionate embrace of her arms and legs wrapped around him…

It wasn't until she wiggled her hips from beneath him that he realized he was holding her tight with his head pressed into the crook of her neck. The flowery, feminine scent of her invaded his senses as he ran his hands up her thighs, wrapping her legs firmly around his waist. With each thrust of his hips, she surged up to meet him, her breath coming in short gasps of pleasure.

From this angle, she could see all of his horrible imperfections. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in a mix of concentration and pleasure, dark eyes hooded yet still focused on her. The mangled skin on the right half of his face was ugly. Half of his lip was twisted upward in a strange, permanent grimace. But the flush of his cheeks and the way his black hair fell forward in strands made her heart race faster.

Erik was always so composed and professional. To be anything else was a weakness. And yet here he was, rolling in bed with her, his hair a mess and mask thrown aside. His trust was precious to her. And for all his deformity, the look on his face was oddly sexy.

"Erik-" She grabbed his shoulders as she climaxed, her whole body tensing as the waves of pleasure swept through her.

He crushed his lips against hers to stifle a groan as his body finally found release. He held her close for a few more moments until she whispered in his ear, "I love you."

Erik placed another kiss on her lips before pulling away to grab the blankets from where they were bundled at the foot of the bed. While he was drawing the blanket over them, he paused to glance at where his mask lay on floor across the room. Christine was stretching lethargically when she noticed Erik pause and followed his gaze to see what he was looking at.

Sitting up, she latched her arms around his neck to drag him back down. "Come here, you. You're not getting out of bed until tomorrow morning."

"But the light…" he started, glancing toward the switch by the door. Sighing, Christine jumped up and quickly moved across the room to turn off the light. Then she climbed back into bed and curled up under the blankets, nestling close to his chest within his arms.

Erik woke when he reached over and found the other side of the bed empty. He grabbed the wadded up blanket and pulled it back only to find Christine missing. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was already ten o'clock in the morning, but so far as he knew, Christine had nothing pressing to take care of.

He dressed and put on his mask before heading downstairs. Christine and Nadir sat at the kitchen table, though they weren't talking. Christine was busy eating a bowl of cereal and she glanced up happily when Erik entered. Nadir crossed his arms and scowled at him silently.

Fixing his tie idly, Erik walked over to where Christine sat and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. He plopped down on the seat next to her, he sent her a small almost embarrassed smile. "Good morning."

Christine's face and neck flushed red as she stammered, "Y-yeah. You too."

Nadir glared at them for a moment before making a disgusted noise and rolling his eyes. "I'm happy for you two. Really. I mean, sure, you danced around each other long enough for me to have had sex with a few hundred ladies, but who's keeping track? Right? Right."

Before they could respond, he railed on, angrily punctuating his words with jerky hand movements. "You could have told me you weren't coming back to the club. You left me with Erik's crazy ass mom for three whole hours! That's how long it took for me to realize you guys weren't coming back."

Nadir finally ran out of breath, ending his rant for the time being. Erik shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Don't wait for me to feel bad for you. Nothing you say will bother me today."

"Do you really want me to try? Because I can." Nadir muttered, rubbing his scalp as he looked away. Christine tried not to laugh as she finished the last of her breakfast and took the bowl to the sink. "I don't know what you're so happy about. You're robbing the grave here."

Christine rinsed the bowl and set it in the dishwasher before turning around to face him. "Jealous much, Nadir? You should hold out for quality once in a while."

Nadir reached into his jacket and pulled out a stapled set of papers that had been folded in half to fit in the pocket. He waved the papers in the air once. "While you two were busy making babies, I was doing big people work."

He slapped the papers onto the table top in front of Christine as she took her seat again. Arching an eyebrow at him, she flipped through the papers. "What's this? It's a bunch of addresses."

"Genius. Yes, they're addresses. It's a list of houses that fit the prerequisites you and Erik requested for your new home. Your assistant e-mailed it to me early this morning and I printed it out for you," Nadir watched her as she huddled close to Erik to let him read over her shoulder. "Ugh. Newlyweds make my skin crawl."

"Don't be such a downer, Nadir," Christine said, grinning at him over the papers. "Hey, you know what? Since Erik and I have to check out all these houses today, why don't you take the day off? To make up for leaving you at Madame Giry's last night."

Nadir stuck his lower lip out and slumped in his chair, arms crossed. He would not be fooled so easily. "You just want me out of the house so you can have some more hot sex, don't you?"

"It had crossed my mind," Christine replied with only a tiny bit of remorse. Most of her brain was occupied with thoughts of how better her time could be spent. Most of the activities involved various surfaces, her and Erik, and no clothing. Shaking her head to clear the distracting images, she added, "But I do need to look at these houses. I want to make my decision today."

Nadir shrugged and turned to Erik, who had taken the papers from Christine and was inspecting the information. "You down with this?"

"What? Having more sex?" Erik replied, glancing up from the paper for a second to meet Nadir's eyes before shrugging and returning to his reading. "Could be worse."

"Taking one for the team. What a saint." Nadir was already standing from his chair, obviously irritated and in need of some sleep. "No. Are you fine with taking over the bodyguard duties today?"

"I'll survive. Go home and rest," Erik set the papers down on the table to give Nadir his full attention and spoke in a gruff voice. "You shouldn't have waited up for us last night."

"Well, sorry for worrying about my friends. Any number of things could have happened to you guys." Nadir's frown deepened as his eyebrows furrowed in anger, but after a moment he exhaled and his expression softened. "Sorry, just… I've lost too many people lately."

Erik nodded and he and Christine stood up to walk Nadir out. Eyes following Christine's hands as she wrapped them through Nadir's arm, Erik felt a surprising stab of jealousy at her touching another man. She smiled at Nadir as he opened the front door and waved him away. "Get some rest, Nadir. If you need anything, call me."

"Take care of yourself," Erik said, getting Nadir's attention as he tried to leave. "Who else is supposed to keep her out of trouble?"

"Thanks," Nadir replied, the lines around his eyes standing out from stress and fatigue. He shut the door behind himself and Christine turned to Erik, worriedly.

"Will he be okay? Does he have anyone to turn to now?" Christine leaned against the door, resting her head back. "I can relate. We both lost the last of our family on the same day. Who do we have left, you know? It really gets to you."

Erik watched her wrap her arms around her stomach and bow her head, drawing into herself. He braced one hand on the wall near her head and leaned forward to lock the door. As he pulled away to stand up again, she threw her arms around his neck and yanked him back down to her kiss him soundly on the lips. He stepped in close, forcing her back against the door. Their bodies were pressed flush together, he could feel every inch of her curves against his flesh.

"We need to look at those houses…" he protested weakly, lips hovering near hers. In response, she rubbed her leg along the inside of his thigh and smiled suggestively. Groaning, he kissed her again and then grabbed her hand to lead her toward the stairs. "Fine, you win."

Hours later, Erik and Christine were walking down the street belonging to one of the houses on the list. They had looked at about half of the houses and Erik was still making notes for the last one. As they walked back to the car, he wrote down all the renovations that the house would need for security before they could move in.

By the looks of his pen flitting frantically across the paper, Christine had a feeling there was a lot lacking in the security of this particular house. "What's the verdict?"

"Hm… it needs a better gate around the perimeter, cameras installed at all the entrance and exit points, a speaker at the gate to allow visitors to announce themselves… guard dogs wouldn't hurt." He added, slowly as his remembered the house. "It was probably the worst so far. It was a pretty house, but the security system was… well, almost nonexistent."

"I noticed you were taking more notes than usual," Christine sighed as they walked side by side toward the car. Reaching over, she tried to take his hand in hers, but when their hands touched, he quickly jerked away, distancing himself from her.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to hold your hand," he assured her awkwardly.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, grabbing his hand and interlocking their fingers. "I mean, you are my boyfriend now, so it's fine if you hold my hand."

"I am no boy," the corner of his lips twitched upward in a barely contained smile and he squeezed her hand lightly.

Christine laughed and hugged his arm as she continued to hold his hand. "You're right. Boyfriend just doesn't suit you. So what do I call you?"

Confused, he ventured, "Erik? My name?"

"Well, I can't call you 'my Erik.'"

"Why not?" He replied, sounding slightly hurt.

"It sounds like I'm talking about my son or something! A kid. And we just agreed that you weren't a boy." She let go of his arm when they reached the car and he unlocked her door to hold it open for her.

"You can call me your 'gentleman friend.' If it makes you happy." He shut the door after she got in and walked around to climb into the driver's seat.

"No way! That makes you sound old." She complained, wrinkling her nose with disdain. As he turned the key revving the car to life, he shot her an arched eyebrow look that made her pout. She muttered, "Older anyway. Like 50 or something."

"That's only 12 years older than I am now," he replied, driving down the residential streets toward the main avenue. The clock blinked off the time as 3:00 P.M., and Erik realized they had been house hunting for four hours already. "Are you hungry, Christine? We only have one more house on the list, so we can get something to eat if you want."

"What? Yes! Definitely!" She caught onto the offer eagerly, eyes bright. "Let's go to a restaurant."

He glanced at her as he started driving toward one of his favorite restaurants. She was sitting happily in her seat, grinning as she all but bounced up and down. "Why are you so happy?"

"What? A girl can't be happy for no reason?" She asked, watching out the window as the scenery zoomed passed. "This is a big step for us. Not only have I not gotten a chance to go out with you just for fun, but I don't think I've seen you eat once. I was beginning to wonder if you photosynthesize or something."

"Are you serious? That's absurd. I must have eaten in front of you. What about this morning? You ate cereal." He offered helpfully.

"Yeah, I ate cereal. You didn't eat anything, like usual."

He paused, a look of confusion on his face for a moment before he shook his head, waving his hand. "Naw. That can't be right. You probably don't remember, because it's not a big deal."

"No. No, I'm sure. I've seen you drink things. Alcohol or water, you know. But I've never seen you eat food and that's something I've been looking forward to."

"Well, let's remedy that, shall we?"

Erik held up the list of houses and his pen as they walked up to the gate outside of the large home. Christine gazed at the house through the tall, elegant rod iron gate and whistled low. The front lawn sprawled for nearly fifty yards of beautifully tended grass and flowers, obviously professionally landscaped.

"May I help you?" The voice from the speaker outside of the gates made Christine jump back in surprise.

Erik nodded appreciatively as he mentally ticked off the security prerequisites. So far, this house was proving to be the best they'd seen with its imposing, strong fence, two way visitor's speaker, and large front lawn with a circular driveway. It just figured that Nadir would have put it last on the list of prospective homes.

Christine leaned close to the speaker and pressed the button as she said, "Yes, my name is Christine Daae and I'm here to look at the house."

"Oh, Miss Daae! I'll ring you in right now and come out to meet you," the voice assured her. The gate swung open, allowing them to enter. The paved driveway stretched on and circled in front of the house. As he walked, Erik glanced around in crucial spots only to find security cameras in place.

"Excellent," he mused under his breath right as a woman in a fancy blouse and knee-length, pleaded skirt and modest heels walked out of the front door.

The real estate agent smiled brightly as she reached out and took Christine's hand in a friendly handshake. "Hello, I'm Haley, and I'll be showing you around this lovely home today."

Christine stared around the front lawn, admiring the white bark birch tree and all the flowers near the house. She followed the real estate woman up the stairs leading to the ornately carved, double doors. On top of both banisters there was a bronze statue of an angel with wings outstretched.

When they entered, Erik patted Christine's shoulder and said, "I'm going to take inventory of the rest of the house's security."

She nodded without looking at him as she was entranced by the gleam of the newly polished, deep wood flooring in the front room. Erik left to tour the house alone while Christine stared from the floor up to the high, gothic arched ceiling. "Wow, this is amazing! Everything's so beautiful! Look at this furniture- it's so soft!"

She ran her hand along the back of the cream colored sofa in the living room and paused to enjoy the softness of the fabric. Haley spoke as she fixed a wrinkle in the dark brown throw blanket draped over the armrest, "Yes, this home comes fully furnished by our talented interior decorator. Most of the house is done in rich, earthy tones, but if you have a preferred color scheme, we can change it to suit your tastes."

Christine gaped at the woman, dumbstruck. "Really? So if I wanted the walls green and floors pink, you'd do it?"

Haley laughed and wrinkled her nose. "Anything for Miss Daae. Your father has purchased many of our custom homes in the past, which makes you a valued customer."

They went upstairs only to stop at an open door leading into a spacious room with dark brown, plush carpeting. Erik stood in the middle of the room, his hand on his chin as he surveyed the sturdy, antique bookshelves lining one whole wall. Against the opposite wall was a four post, canopy bed with bronze material draped over the posts. He glanced over at Christine as she walked in. "This house is perfect. The only things we need to change are the windows. We'll have to replace the glass with bullet-proof plastic."

"I know, it's amazing! And it's beautiful." Christine gushed happily. "There's even a guest house out back, so that when we kick Nadir out, he doesn't have to sit in his car until the next morning."

"Nadir isn't living in the guest house." Erik stated, affronted at the idea. "He has a home. Let him go there."

"Yeah, but if he doesn't want to drive all the way across town, that'll be a place for him to stay. Or if I have company over." She ventured, eyeing the room they were in. "Why are you in here?"

"Oh," he said, turning back to stare at the bookshelf with an appreciative look. "If I am going to be living with you, then I want this room."

She arched one eyebrow as she smirked at him. "You think I'm not going to be sharing a room with you? How cute. We'll have the master bedroom together."

Haley recognized the warning signs of an oncoming quarrel and quickly backed out of the room. "I'll just go grab some refreshments from the kitchen."

Christine barely noticed the woman as she escaped back downstairs. Crossing her arms, she asked, "Why do you want your own room?"

"This would make a good office. There's enough room for a desk, and I can keep my clothes in the walk in closet so you can use the closet in the master bedroom. And the bed is nice." He sat down on the bed as if to prove his point. Skeptically, she crossed the room and plopped down on the mattress beside him.

"It IS a nice mattress," she admitted begrudgingly.

"Yes, so maybe we can sleep in here once in a while." He patted the bed lovingly. "Because it's so nice."

"Sure," she shrugged, bouncing on the mattress lightly.

As if remembering something, Erik glanced in the direction of the door and quickly shut it. "I have a surprise for you."

Christine remained seated on the bed, grinning. "If you want to christen the bed, you're going to have to wait until the real estate agent isn't here. I mean, unless you get excited thinking she's just downstairs."

Erik froze at this, confused and shocked, before blinking out of his Christine-induced stupor. "What? No! Hold out your hand and close your eyes."

Sighing, she closed her eyes. "Oh, is that they way you like it?"

"What are you talking about? Stop doing that! I got you a present, I had to look everywhere to find one that would suit you. I wanted it to be perfect for you."

"Oh my God!" Without opening her eyes, Christine held out her hand palm down, as if waiting for a ring to be slipped onto her finger. Erik took her hand and turned it palm up before placing a heavy, metal object into her hand. She had to close her hand to keep from dropping the hefty item.

"Open your eyes!" He said and she found a semi-automatic pistol grasped in her hand. She glanced up at him in confusion, but there was a look of anticipation on his face as he awaited her reaction. "I got you a gun, since you were wanting one so badly. And look-"

He pointed to the barrel of the gun where an elegant script was engraved into the metal. "I took it to Things Remembered to get it engraved. You should have seen the look on the employee's face when I placed the order."

Christine ran her finger along the swirly font cut on the barrel that read her name. He continued quietly, "I wanted it to be special, so I named it after you."

It wasn't a ring. But the thought and attention he had placed in finding her a proper gun that fit her grip without being too heavy touched her heart. She stood and kissed the corner of his lips. "Thank you so much."

"Yes, well," he reached out and gently pried the gun from her fingers before slipping it back into the holster at his thigh, hidden behind his long overcoat. "Now maybe after you practice for a month, I'll let you fire it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Title:** The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer: **Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** Chapter title pilfered straight from episode twelve, season three of Doctor Who. It seemed to fit. I'm on a Doctor Who kick right now something fierce, so where's the harm?

**Chapter Fifteen: Here Come the Drums**

The next morning, Christine awoke to find Erik tilting his chin up as he tied his black necktie. He was fully dressed, while she was still lying in bed naked except for the blanket draped carelessly over her torso. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand, she murmured, "What're you doing? Come back to bed."

"Good morning to you too," he said with a tinge of sarcasm. He buttoned his suit jacket before straightening the lapels. "There are a few things I must take care of today. I do not wish to draw out the inevitable."

"What sort of things?" Christine held the blanket to her chest and stared up at him with wide, sparkling brown eyes.

He met her questioning gaze and his resolve was undone. She was naked in bed with her long, chestnut curls unkempt and his heart hammered in his chest. Without hesitation, he walked over to her side of the bed and knelt down to take both her hands in his, pressing them to his lips. "Christine, I never hoped I could feel this level of happiness. You're my angel, you have been from the moment you entered my life."

"You save me from myself. For the first time, I wish I had the ability to protect, but all I know is how to kill." He said as she leaned close to kiss him. Before she could, the blanket slipped, revealing her breasts and she blushed and quickly pulled her hands free to cover herself with the fabric again. Erik merely watched with a half smile on his masked face then stood and turned to leave.

"Erik-" she started, gripping the blanket firmly around her.

"Thankfully, I might still be useful to you even with all my flaws. And so, I'm officially coming out of retirement to serve as your personal hitman," he said in a confident voice, removing his leather gloves from his pocket and tugging them onto his hands.

"But, Erik! If I accept I'll be as bad as my mother. She used you for your talents, manipulated you to do jobs for her," Christine said, balling one hand in the blanket tightly, her anger building. "You must have known that! You're the smartest person I know."

A sad expression crossed the visible half of his face as he gazed down at her. "Of course. After all, your mother learned all her tricks from Madeleine. Perhaps that is why I was drawn to her. She was so much like my own mother. The only difference being that Elizabeth would occasionally show me affection, if caught in the proper mood."

"I can't believe you could love your mother after all the horrible things I've heard. She seems to have no problem showing her hatred for you," Christine snapped, remembering the previous night's conversation with Madeleine. "She gives me the creeps. There's something not right with her."

"No, I don't like her at all. She's a loathsome woman, abandoned with a deformed newborn by her lover. It's easy to say I feel no ounce of love for her, but when she and I are in the same room something holds me back," he said, facing the bedroom door as if eager to leave. "I'll be back later. Nadir should be downstairs. Do not leave without him."

With that, he swept from the room and disappeared down the stairs. Christine sighed heavily and fell back against the mound of pillow propped behind her. He was so business-like and efficient during the day. It was almost unbelievable to think that when the lights were off and they had no other obligations, he would cling to her in the darkness. As if she would slip away in his dreams and leave him alone again.

Stretching lethargically on the sheets, she enjoyed a few more minutes of peace in their shared haven before rolling out of bed and walking toward the bathroom.

Madame Giry's was closed to the public at three in the afternoon, but when Christine and Nadir entered they were greeted warmly. The women were resting at various tables around the bar and looked up when Christine entered, her heeled shoes clicking against the floor.

Meg rushed up to them lightly, her feet barely making any noise as she walked. She threw her arms out and grabbed Christine in a friendly hug. "I'm sorry I didn't catch you last night. I had a very pushy customer. Rich men think you have all the time in the world to spend with them so long as they keep shelling out the money."

"That's alright," Christine returned the hug happily before pulling back to smile at her. "I know you've been neglecting work to help me adjust to this lifestyle. Your clients are probably all jealous of me monopolizing your time."

Her cheerful laughter filled the air as Meg led Christine further into the club with an arm around her shoulders. Nadir followed a few feet behind them, body relaxed and eyes alert. "Jealous, huh! What about you? You're the envy of every woman here."

Christine blushed bright red as she murmured behind her hand, "What do you mean?"

Elbowing her playfully in the arm, Meg winked, "Don't be so shy. Last night, you announced to Madeleine and the whole club that Erik is your lover. And you left in a hurry. There are only a few reasons for such a hasty departure and I'm willing to bet that someone got lucky last night."

"Meg!" Christine whined, her cheeks growing even hotter. "I'm sure Erik wouldn't want everyone to be talking about this."

"That won't stop them." Meg shrugged. "After your little proclamation, the news is spreading fast. That's fine though. It means that no one will bother you so long as Erik is your kept man."

Christine nearly choked on her sudden laughter, surprised by Meg's words. After regaining her composure, she remembered her purpose in coming to the club before opening. "Is Madame Giry busy? I have some questions for her about Madeleine."

Meg wrapped her arms around herself and peered at Christine warily. "You noticed then."

"What?"

"Erik's mother. She's a little off in the head. Always has been." Meg sighed and shook her head, her blonde waves swaying softly from the motion. "Mom says the insanity and violent tendencies must run in the family. Boys are supposed to take after their mothers."

Madeleine's cold, calculating smile filled her mind, her confusing, heartless words piercing her heart. Christine's eyebrows drew together in a look of seriousness as she spoke, "Erik has never sought to hurt me. He places my value above all others. He and his mother are nothing alike. She doesn't love anyone, merely pretends to based on the reaction of those she wants to impress."

At that moment, Madame Giry walked out of her back office and shut the door behind herself, pocketing the key. Christine brushed passed Meg and strode across the club toward the older woman. "Madame Giry, please wait!"

She paused as she reached the stairs and glanced around to find Christine hurrying over to her. "Miss Daae? What brings you here this fine afternoon?"

Christine stood facing her with her back straight, arms at her side as she demanded, "Tell me about the relationship between my mother and Madeleine. I need to know everything you can tell me."

Surprised, Madame Giry stared at the resolute young woman before glancing around the room to find many prying eyes watching them with interest. Taking her by the hand, she pulled Christine up the stairs to her bedroom on the third floor while Nadir followed close behind. He stood on the inside of the door with his arms crossed while Madame Giry addressed Christine. "Girl, pay attention. Nowhere is safe. Not even this nightclub. The women here are all INFORMANTS. They know the value of every tidbit of information and will not hesitate to sell it."

"Madame, if Madeleine is as dangerous as Meg said, why would you introduce her to me?"

Madame Giry crumpled to sit on her bed, rubbing her eyes as she exhaled tiredly. "She called in an old debt I owed her, child. I did not see the harm in a mere introduction and she seemed so eager to meet you. She had great aspirations for Elizabeth, you know. They were to rule the city together, share the power between them. It's why she was training your mother in the first place. She saw raw talent and was almost possessed in her desire to shape it."

"No doubt she sees a similar fire burning in your eyes," The corner of her thin lips quirked upward as she eyed Christine. "As does Erik. Unfortunately for her, he got to you first."

"If my mother and Madeleine wanted to take over, why didn't they?" Christine asked, confused. "They were both strong. They knew how to use people."

"Yes, they were master manipulators. Madeleine still is. But she didn't foresee one small problem." Madame Giry folded her hands on her lap. "Your mother was young and hopeful. Despite Madeleine's best efforts to extinguish it, Elizabeth still had a yearning for love within her. And she fell in love with Gustave at first glance."

"Love has a way of reshaping your priorities," she stated, the lines around her eyes softening. "Your parents were a good team, far better than Elizabeth and Madeleine together. Madeleine cut all ties with your mother. It was too hard for her to watch your parents lead the life of power and privilege that she had always desired."

"She obviously felt betrayed in some way. I do not think Madeleine spoke to Elizabeth very often from then on. Erik, as you know, remained close to your mother until the day she died," Madame Giry finished, smoothing out a wrinkle in her bedspread as silence filtered throughout the room.

Feeling as though the blood had drained from her face, Christine pressed a cold hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. Wanting to know the truth and accepting it were two different matters entirely. "Do you know anything about my mother's death?"

"Nothing more than the next person, Christine." Madame Giry paused before adding, "However, I do know who might be of help."

"Who?" Christine asked, curiously.

"Erik." She replied.

Christine arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Erik? But why?"

"Why?" Madame Giry seemed slightly amused by this. "Because the poor man was the first to find her, even before your father."

For a brief moment, Christine could have sworn black spots swarmed at the edge of her vision, threatening to engulf her consciousness. Stubbornly, she focused on calming herself, and breathed steadily through her nose as quietly as she could manage. Her hands at her sides clenched so painfully tight her nails bit into the flesh of her palms. The stinging of her nails digging into her skin brought her mind back from drifting. "Thank you, Madame Giry. You've been very helpful."

"Not at all. Are you alright, dear?" Madame Giry stood from her seat on the bed and took a step toward her, only to have Christine smile and turn to the door.

"I'm afraid there's something I have to do now. Things are busy since I'm about to move. I still have to find some movers and deal with the paperwork," Christine laughed lightly as she started out the bedroom door. Nadir opened the door for her and followed her down the stairs. Madame Giry stood in her bedroom threshold and watched them make their way to the club entrance.

Meg stopped them before they could leave. "Christine, you're going already? Did my mom scare you away? You know she's mostly talk, she'd probably never do half the things she says when she's mad."

"No, that's not it. I'm just worn out." She placed her hand on Meg's arm reassuringly. "Whoever said 'The truth will set you free,' was a lying bastard, that much I know for sure. The truth only complicates everything."

Meg eyed her worriedly, covering Christine's hand with her own. "Do you want me to come with you? Keep you company? It's been awhile since we got to hang out, just the two of us."

Christine grinned and glanced at Nadir over her shoulder. "We wouldn't be alone. Nadir would be there too."

Meg scoffed and waved her hand. "He hardly counts. More monkey than man."

"Thanks, Meg. I was starting to forget what a bitch you are. That was a nice reminder," Nadir said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Christine. "You sure you want to be seen with her? I hear syphilis is contagious."

"I don't have syphilis, you ass," Meg hissed, squinted up at him before shielding her eyes. "God, the light glaring off your head could blind someone. Grow some hair, skinhead."

"Soon as you cut yours, hippie," he retaliated in a growl. Before Meg could parry with an equally as amusing reply, Christine burst into laughter, interrupting their verbal spar.

Nadir smirked at Meg over Christine's head and Meg winked at him before pouting. "Tie then, bald man."

"Tie?! Are you crazy, woman? I clearly returned one of your jabs with two of mine. Remember? The bitch, syphilis combo." Nadir crossed his muscular arms and sent Meg an intimidating look. She brushed it away with a flick of her hand through her hair.

"I've got things to check out. I'll call you later, okay?" Christine promised as she continued toward the entrance. Meg gazed after her friend with concern, clutching her hands together as Christine left without looking back.

Christine slid into the backseat of Nadir's car and sat in contemplative silence while he started the engine and drove from the parking lot. They headed back towards her home while she tapped her chin in thought. Finally, she asked in a hesitant voice, "Nadir, you heard what Madame Giry said about Erik finding my mother?"

"Of course I did. I was in the same room when she said it. I'm not going deaf yet in my old age." He smirked, eyes watching the road.

"You know what I mean," she said, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror hanging from the windshield. "Do you know anything about that day? You were my dad's most trusted advisor, right? His bodyguard and personal assistant must have known something that no one else does."

After a drawn out silence, Nadir pressed his lips together in a firm line and nodded once. "Guess you could say that. But why are you stirring up the water now? Your mom's been dead for a long time-"

"I'm not the same person I was a few weeks ago, Nadir. And I'm worried for Erik." She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes lowered as she remembered the hatred she saw burning in his mother's eyes. "Somehow this whole, ugly business had stretched on for years and it caught him and my parents in it like a spider's web."

"You think the same person who killed your mother fifteen years ago is responsible for your father's death?" Nadir asked, confused.

"I don't know anything for sure yet. This all feels too personal. My father tried to keep me safe from it, but in the end, I'm caught in it as well." She stared out the window before meeting his gaze in the mirror once more. "It's a masterpiece for a madman with insane amounts of ambition and patience."

Nadir smirked and scoffed as he said, "Almost sounds like Erik."

Christine's eyes locked onto his, her expression devoid of all amusement. "It does. In fact, all the evidence seems to lead to him. Everyone has warned me about him at one point or another. But would Erik have hurt my mother?"

Nadir turned at a corner and continued driving toward the house. His brow was furrowed and eyes too focused to be staring only at the road before him. Finally, he admitted, "No. He was so sweet on your mom. Should have seen them together. She had him under her thumb and he lived for her praise."

A pang of jealousy shot through her chest as Nadir spoke. The look on her face must have betrayed her emotions, because he quickly added, "Anyway, Gustave was the second person to find Elizabeth dead and he still trusted Erik enough to have him take care of you after he passed. From what I hear, Erik was an emotional wreck, there's no way he could have done it."

"So, my father didn't believe Erik was responsible for my mother's death. Even so, Dad never said Mom committed suicide. Did he keep it from me so I wouldn't be scarred by it?"

"Ah! I can help with that one," Nadir spoke, just as they turned into the driveway outside her home. "First off, you were too young to hear the details when it happened. But when you got older, the reason for him not telling you about Elizabeth's suicide is simple. Gustave honestly did not believe your mother had taken her own life."

"I knew it!" Christine clapped her hands together. "But why? Even Erik thinks she did and he was the first one to find her. Plus, he knew her really well, right?"

"He knew her well enough, yeah. What she would let him see of her personality, anyway. He's not stupid, he could tell she was manipulating him, but he still fell for it. The thing is, even the smartest people have flaws and needs. There's a big difference between intelligence and emotional intelligence, as our masked buddy proves daily."

"Yeah, but that means he didn't want to believe she was murdered. He would have to be in such denial that he would rather think she'd taken her own life." Christine pondered out loud as she opened the car door and slid to her feet. "But why?

Nadir was already standing in front of her, hand on the open car door to shut it behind her. He shrugged, "That's about all I know. Since your dad isn't around anymore, the only person who can tell you the rest is Erik."

That left her with nothing to keep her worried mind occupied for the remaining hours until Erik returned to the house. What he could be doing was beyond her, but she refused to hound him into coming back. Through sheer force of will, she kept herself busy and mind away from the conclusions she so desperately wanted to jump to after all day playing detective.

She was in the kitchen washing a few dirty cups to keep her hands moving when she heard the front door swing open. Holding her breath, her heart thumped loudly as the familiar footsteps fell on the entranceway tiles and further, muffled by the carpet's softness.

Nadir's voice rang out from the living room adjacent to the front door. "Hey. How was business?"

Christine could almost hear Erik roll his eyes from her place in the kitchen. He stated in a voice tinged with sarcasm, "Waiting by the door to welcome me home, Nadir? Where's the '50's style dress, high heels and pearls? Am I to assume my dinner is waiting on the table?"

She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing at the image Erik's emotionless words brought to her mind. Before she knew it, he swept into the kitchen as he removed his heavy overcoat. Stepping forward, he caught her around the waist and she backed up until she bumped into the counter behind her. Angling his head down, he placed a solid kiss on her lips before grumbling under his breath. "Mask gets in the way, doesn't it?"

She reached up to trace a small line at the corner of his lips. "A little."

"You're quiet." He said, eyes narrowing slightly as he peered down at her. After a moment, he seemed to remember something and patted his suit pocket until he found what he was looking for. Pulling out a small, purple flower, he presented it to her, one arm still wrapped around her waist.

Tentatively, she reached up and took it from his gloved hand, bringing the precious gift closer to examine. "It's pretty. Why-"

"A five petal, wild Geranium, commonly known as a weed flower. I saw a patch of them on my way back and it made me think of you. This light purple color, it's the same color as your masquerade dress." he murmured, watching her carefully as a string of emotions flitted across her face. He took the flower back and threaded the thin, green stem through her curls so that the lavender petals peeked out of her hair. "It's a nice color for you."

Her throat burned as she realized the pain he must have felt the night he found her mother dead. He was such a beautiful person at times, and she had to ask him to relive that emotional pain so she could find the truth. Taking his hands in hers, she intertwined their fingers. "Erik, I have to ask you something. It's very important that you tell me everything you can, no matter how much it might hurt to remember."

Silence stretched between them until she finally said, "I need you to tell me about the day my mother died."

She saw him stop breathing for a second, shoulders completely stiff, and eyes slightly wild. It broke her heart to see him so ready to run away. She let go of his hands and turned to leave. "I'm going up to my room. We can talk there."

He didn't come up straight away, but then she had a feeling he wanted to compose himself. When she left him in the kitchen, he looked like he was about to bolt or hit something. Probably Nadir. By the time he opened the door and walked into her bedroom, nearly thirty minutes later, Christine was already in her pajama pants and tank top, reading a book.

When Erik shut the door behind him, she put the book down on her nightstand and crossed her legs. She patted the bed next to her. "C'mon, get ready for bed. I left some pajama pants and a T-shirt your size in the bathroom."

He eyed her for a moment, as if torn between two options. This indecisiveness worried her. So she sent him a wicked, playful grin as she started to lift the bottom of her tank top up to reveal her belly, "If you don't want to wear pajamas to bed, I'm game for that too."

This seemed to cinch it. Erik shot her an indignant glare before striding to the bathroom. He came back wearing the bedclothes she had acquired for him. His mask was still securely in place, which was fine by her. It provided him with a sense of control and he might need that security while recounting his story.

He sat on the edge of the bed and considered how best to start as Christine scooted closer to him. Finally, when he couldn't keep quiet any more, he began, "I was on my way to see Elizabeth when I was attacked. The hitman was obviously bad at his job, very sloppy. More than anything, he just got in the way and delayed me a little bit."

It was late afternoon and he was in the driveway outside Elizabeth's house, having just gotten out of his car. The hitman had charged him immediately, jumping out of the tall bushes lining one side of the Daae home. They had danced around each other with bullets and knives for a minute or two, Erik trying to get as much information out of the man before he had to kill him. In the end, no names had been dropped and Erik had led him to the backyard as if making a run for it, before shooting his attacker in the head.

Erik stood over the killer's body, his gun gripped in his right hand as he nudged the corpse with his foot. The man rolled face down in the dirt and grass, blood pooling around him from his wound.

A sudden thrill went through him as he remembered where he was. Elizabeth's house. She was just inside, and probably scared by the commotion. Without hesitation, Erik holstered the gun and dashing in through the sliding glass door. "Elizabeth! Where are you?"

The house rang with silence. No one responded. Something was wrong, normally little Christine would be bounding down the stairs to reach him with her mother in tow.

Erik started walking through the house, open each door with precision, but growing more fearful with each empty room he found. By the time he reached the stairs to the second floor, his heart was pounding so loud he could barely think. He leapt up the stairs two steps at a time, clamoring with fearful abandon. "Christine! Elizabeth! Answer me!"

In that moment as time stretched on and he tried to make it to the top of the stairs, Erik's mind ran through a hundred different horrors that could await him. He slammed into the master bedroom, his breathing erratic and eyes flicking around to find any hint of their presence.

He could have moved onto the next room, but the door to the connecting bathroom caught his eye. It was left open an inch. Something about that chilled his blood.

Taking steady steps toward the bathroom, Erik reached out and slowly pushed the door open. In the large bathroom, in the elegant, ivory and gold tub filled with red water… Elizabeth.

Her beautiful, shining brown eyes were shut. All her limbs were in the water, as if she were merely paused in the middle of a luxurious bath. There was a strange noise: a choking, coughing, sobbing sound.

Oh. That was him.

A soft, worried voice floated from the room behind him. "Angel? Where's Mommy?"

Erik spun around. His gun was in his hand in an instant, pointed at five year old Christine who was peeking out from the closet. Shocked, he nearly dropped the gun with a stifled cry. The little girl padded out of the closet, a scared look on her face. "Did the man leave, Angel? Is Mommy okay?"

As she approached him and the bathroom, he barked, "Don't! Stay there!"

Frantically, he put the gun away and shut the bathroom door before she could look inside. He couldn't let that happen. Christine's large, brown eyes, so much like her mother's, turned up at him in confusion and he broke. Falling to his knees, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her close to his chest. His tears fell against her brown curls and she reached up with her small hand to wipe them from his face. "Don't cry, Angel."

And her smile made him sob harder. That was how Gustave found them ten minutes later.

Christine stared up at him, his pale face drawn expressionless and tight. She reached out and took his bare hand in hers, running her thumb along his white knuckles. "Erik, do you honestly believe my mother killed herself after all that?"

He glanced at her, wounded eyes confused by the question. His strong, smooth voice cracked once with pain as he said, "How can you even ask that? She slit her wrists, Christine. In the tub."

"Easily done by a hitman, you know that. Why else would I have been hiding in the closet? And Nadir told me, Dad never believed Mom killed herself. In fact, my dad was attacked on his way home that very day as if to delay him. Same as you were."

"Nadir said…? But, how would he-"

"Personal bodyguard, remember?" Christine breathed, reaching up to brush her hand against the left side of his face. "He was there."

"Oh, that's right," Erik was unsettled enough to forget even the most obvious details at the moment. But Christine knew she had to finish, now that she had all the puzzle pieces together.

"Erik, I think Madeleine ordered the hit on my mom. I think she wanted to get control over this city, no matter what it took, and when my mom made an alliance with my dad, it was a betrayal to Madeleine's plans." Christine said, gripping his hands firmly. She was ready for him to deny it, to rail at her jumping to conclusions.

He met her eyes and his face went blank. If not for the shaking of his hands, she would not have known how mad he was. "Erik?"

"That…" he seemed to be at a loss for words in his rage. "I should have known… should have seen-"

How easily he believed her. And now, in his understanding, she could see how angry the knowledge made him. She threw her arms around him and pressed her ear against his chest, listening to his rapidly accelerating heartbeat. "It's just a theory. I just wanted to know who killed my parents. She's been doing this so long, Erik."

"If anyone is capable of this… madness, it's her. She's a master manipulator, as I said," he replied, his voice laced with barely restrained anger. He shook his head and pulled her back to meet her gaze. "Now that you've figured it out, what are you going to do?"

Christine paused, surprised. "I hadn't thought of that. I'm not going to talk to her anymore, that's for sure. I still can't believe Madame Giry introduced her to me."

After a brief silence, Christine still couldn't think of an answer to his question. She smiled at him. "I'll worry about that tomorrow. Let's get some rest."

He hesitated for a moment, staring at the door before finally joining her under the blankets. She burrowed close to him, gently taking his mask from his face and placing it on the nightstand. He was glad to have her near. After remembering Elizabeth's death, it helped to know that a small part of her lived on in her daughter. They were so alike and so different. Sometimes that hurt, but now it was comforting.

Erik listened to Christine breathing deeply and evenly for a while after she had fallen asleep with her arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes fluttered shut briefly and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against the exposed skin of her shoulder. Christine murmured something indecipherable and a tiny smile quirked one corner of her lips upward for a moment.

Dark eyes gleaming from the moonlight, he sighed and carefully detached her arms from his nightshirt. Not wanting to wake her, he focused on moving slowly and steadily out of the bed. He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. Her groggily voice caused him to cringe slightly as he realized she was awake. "Erik? What're you doing?"

"Just remembered something I need to get out of the car." He assured her, turning just enough to show her a close-lipped smile and the unscarred half of his face. She smiled back and squirmed further under the covers, closing her eyes with a muffled yawn.

He grabbed the mask from its place on the night stand before entering the bathroom to get dressed. As he finished tying his tie, he wondered if he should have told her the truth. He wasn't going to get something out of the car.

He couldn't sit by and do nothing after finally realizing the truth. Even worse, he couldn't let Madeleine get away with killing both Elizabeth and Gustave then turn her sights to Christine. How could he expect Christine to handle it? He was her personal hitman, this was his job, even if she hadn't officially assigned it yet. And Madeleine was still his mother, though it made him sick to admit it. As her next of kin, it was his duty to stop this madness.

Fully dressed, he made his way downstairs to find Nadir sitting in the living room with a handheld gaming device. The Tetris theme rang through the room with digital beeps and Erik resisted the urge to grab the annoying device and hurl it against the wall. Instead, he tugged at the bottom of his leather gloves, making sure they were firmly in place. Nadir glanced up as he approached. "I take it Christine told you about her little detective work."

"Yes." Erik sighed, rubbing at his visible temple. "She's very smart. Saw the pieces for the whole puzzle they were."

"So, who done it?" Nadir clicked the game off and silence filled the room. "My bet's on the butler."

"Madeleine." Erik replied, eyes straying to the front door. "Now that I know, I have to go."

"Well, that sucks," Nadir stood up and stretched, tossing the game to the couch. "Want me to drop Christine at Madame Giry's and come with you?"

"No, you stay here. Make sure she's safe. I should be back in a few hours." With that, Erik walked to the front door and out to his car. He unlocked the trunk with a flick of his key and peered into the small arsenal he kept within. He reloaded the pistol at his back and strapped another gun in its holster to his thigh. Knife sheathed under his arm and lasso ready inside his jacket, he shut the trunk with a bang and climbed into the driver's seat.


	16. Chapter 16

**Title:** The Devil We Know

**Summary:** Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

**Disclaimer: **Phantom isn't under copyright any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is the result of Sara dogging me to get this story done. So, if you enjoyed it, thank her. She wants to read the sequel already and I can't blame her. It sounds awesome in my head. Helpful music for this chapter includes: Only You by Portishead and Endlessly by Muse.

**Chapter Sixteen: Full Circle Makes You Dizzy**

Erik's gloved hands tightened around the steering wheel as his sleek, black car sped down the freeway. It was nearly one in the morning, and his was the only vehicle around, so he had free reign of the road, which was safer considering his vision was hazy red with anger.

He knew he couldn't handle the situation with his mother while blinded by rage. Taking deep breaths, Erik fought to clear his mind of anything but the most calming thoughts. Christine's smile was one of only images he could stand at the moment. The beautiful, tender smile she gave when worrying about him or the sly, sexy one she wore when thinking up new ways of making him beg.

She had a multitude of other types of smiles, one for every occasion, but those were the two he missed the most. Those were just for him.

He had a firm hold over his temper by the time he parked in the shadow of a modest bar located in the old, run down section of the city. The two story building was made of red bricks dulled from weather and time, the sidewalk in front of the bar cracked with age. The few windows that the building had were tinted so dark Erik couldn't see through them. He hated walking blindly into an enclosed space full of possible threats.

Walking passed the entrance with careful, steady steps, he neared the alley between the bar and the adjacent building. It was a narrow space, barely wide enough for him to enter, and he found no side exits or windows. One less way for his target to escape.

He backtracked to the entrance and burst inside. Two men seated at the bar glanced up with the bartender and stared at Erik in blank shock for a moment. He smirked at them and said, "I'm looking for Madeleine. Let's try to be civil, shall we?"

The men exchanged furrowed glares before fumbling for their guns. Erik was a faster draw and shot each through the head before they could reach their weapons.

The group of men at the pool table in the back froze, alerted by the noise, then snapped into action. Sighing with exasperation, Erik strode toward them, a gun in each hand as he emptied a quick burst of fire from each. The four men in the back part of the bar dropped to the ground lifeless as Erik lowered his guns and surveyed the area.

A small, wooden stairway led up from the back corner of the bar to the second floor of the building. The narrowness of the stairs made him hesitate: it would be a perfect place to bottleneck an enemy and catch them by surprise.

The room was a strange mix between a bedroom and a torture chamber. There was a big, four post bed with canopy and sheets completely done in black, but across the room fixed to the wall were what appeared to be manacles. There was even a sort of hospital examination table, complete with leather straps.

This wasn't exactly what he'd expected, but it explained a little about what she was doing in town. Their family did seem to gravitate to the service industry.

Erik entered the room with his gun held loosely in his hand, ready to shoot without warning. So when he found the room empty of the person he was looking for, he holstered one of his guns to rake his hand down his face and sigh.

There was a soft clicking of heels on the wood floor and Erik quickly ducked forward, avoiding the whistling blade of a knife that slashed at his neck. He dodged to the side and whirled to face his sudden attacker. Madeleine thrust forward again, swiping with the knife at his stomach, but he stepped back and the blade caught nothing.

"What are you doing in my room?" She demanded, dark eyes wild under the dim ceiling lights.

Erik coughed out a harsh laugh, glancing at the strange tools and restraints throughout the room. "Your bedroom is a little twisted, Mother."

"My _life_ has been a little twisted since you were born," she snapped, hand steady and knife poised to strike again. "But you know my profession. These are just the tools of my trade."

She noticed how he tensed when she spoke of her job and a grin unfurled across her lips. Nonchalantly, she gestured with her blade to the manacles affixed to the wall. "You never know what a client will want. Sometimes pain is preferable to pleasure. Surely your little mafia boss has a taste for pain. How she must suffer having to see your face everyday. Definitely a masochist."

"Perhaps I should give her some pointers?" She ventured, a sly smile tightening the skin of her smooth, pale face.

Without warning, Erik extended his arm straight out and aimed the gun at his mother. Deliberately, he inched the barrel upward until it pointed directly at her heart. Only through sheer force of will was he able to keep himself composed.

Still, Madeleine gazed at him unblinkingly, her eyes focused on the mask covering the right side of his face. Her dark stare bore into him. She could see straight through his fake professionalism. She knew his scars. What made him react.

Her sight shifted from his mask to the barrel of the pistol only a few feet away. The lopsided smirk on her face curled her lips at the corner. Her eyelids drooped slightly as she peered up at him through mascara-spiked lashes. One, thin eyebrow rose higher than the other as she spoke in a cold, condescending voice. "Well? Why drag this out any longer than is necessary? I'm sure Christine is waiting for your return with baited breath."

The twitch in his hand was so slight it would have been unperceivable to anyone not paying attention. The action made the barrel of the gun lower a millimeter before he easily righted his grip. But the correction came too late, and the look of amusement on Madeleine's face told him she knew. "Oh, dear. She doesn't know you're here, does she?"

"You killed Elizabeth, you killed Gustav. And I'm sure, when you realize Christine's not going to do what you want, you'll kill her too. I can't let you do that." Erik's frown deepened as he struggled to keep from revealing too much through his body language. "You are my problem to solve, always have been. I was just too blind to see it."

"You're a joke, Erik, a horrible joke, and your hideous face is the punch line. No matter how much I abused you, you never stopped begging for more." Madeleine's eyes glanced to a spot over his shoulder briefly before returning to his face. "I'd love to reminiscent some more, but it seems my back-up has finally arrived."

A sudden noise from the staircase brought him spinning around just in time to see a man charging toward him with a strange gun in his hands. Erik recognized it immediately as a standard firearm for less than lethal capture. A tranquilizer gun, most likely loaded with a potent barbiturate to knock a man unconscious.

The man fired one shot just as Erik dodged out of the way. The tranquilizer pellet whistled passed his face almost inaudibly. He returned fire with his pistol, hitting his attacker square between the eyes. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as he tumbled down the stairs.

Before Erik could right himself to face his mother, a quiet firing noise sounded from behind him followed immediately by a sharp stinging in the back of his neck. He slapped the spot with his hand as if killing an annoying bug, and glanced down at the small, harmless metal pellet resting in the center of his palm. He stumbled back a step as he tried to raise his gun, his arms growing heavier as the drug started to course through his blood.

His pistol slipped out of numb fingers and clattered to the floor as he swayed on his feet. "Damn… who keeps… tranqs... these days?"

His knees gave out next, but he didn't realize until he was gasped for breath staring up at the rafters.

His mother towered over him, her usual expression of polite amusement twisted in a sneer of disgust. She gripped the capture gun loosely in one hand and rested her other hand on her hip. Erik found it hard to focus, her image blurring and focusing as he fought against the inevitable. "You have no idea how hard it was to obtain these guns, Erik. You'd think they'd be easier to get because they're non-lethal… but that's not exactly true."

"The dosage's the thing you've got to worry about," she quipped as she examined the gun happily. She ran her finger down the cool, gray metal of the barrel. He was writhing on the ground, fumbling clumsily for his pistol that lay just out of reach. Madeleine pursed her lips as she kicked it farther away from him. He groaned in protest, but words seemed to escape his mind like grabbing at water with his bare hands. "There really is no margin of error allowed. The human body is so… easily damaged."

Whatever he was trying to say garbled in his throat as the drug rendered him unconscious.

Christine awoke from a light sleep an hour after Erik said he was going to grab something from the car. He was still gone, which confused her sleep-ladled brain for a moment. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced around her darkened room groggily, her curly hair tangled from the pillow. "Erik? You in here?"

There was no reply from the shadows, though if he was hiding he probably wouldn't give away his position by answering her. Still, she was sure he wasn't playing tricks. The man barely seemed to have a sense of humor at all, God help her if he started coming up with his own material.

She trudged out of her room and padded down the stairs. As she approached the living room, the repetitive tune of Tetris filled the air. Nadir was sprawled out across the three-seat couch with his shoes off, tapping on the buttons of a Gameboy as the theme repeated. Christine rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "Hey, Nadir. Have you seen Erik?"

"Oh, hey. He was down here about an hour ago. He left." He glanced at her and an appreciative grin crossed his face as he continued playing his game. "Nice 'jamas, by the way. Did you put those on for my sake? Because I don't mind if you walk around naked."

"That's great. I'll be sure to mention it to Erik when I find him." She stomped back up the stairs to get dressed. When she returned in some jeans and a T-shirt, Nadir was just finishing with his shoe laces. "You coming with me?"

"Of course I am," Nadir grumbled, checking his silver wristwatch. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes, I do. But I think Erik might be doing something crazy right now because of what I told him." Christine bit at her thumb nail nervously. "Did he tell you anything before he left?"

"Yup. Said he was going to go kill his mom."

Christine's jaw dropped and her eyes grew large. It took her a few choking stutters before she could manage to find proper words. "What is WRONG with you! Do you know where Madeleine is right now?"

"Um… no, but you could try calling Meg or Madame Giry. They know her better than I do. Which is to say, at all."

Christine hurried into the kitchen to retrieve the wireless phone. Even though it was about 2 A.M., Madame Giry's was probably lively and open for business. She dialed in the number to Meg's cell phone and waited for her to answer. Meg picked up on the fourth ring, just when Christine was about to hang up and try the main phone. The loud music and noises from the bar competed with Meg's voice as she spoke, "Yeah, this is Meg, whatcha want?"

"Meg, it's Christine. I need help. Erik's disappeared and I think-" her voice cracked with a dangerous mix of panic and anguish. "I think he might be hurt. He's done something stupid and I don't know what to do-"

"Calm down, take a deep breath!" Meg seemed to realize just how desperate Christine was. After losing her last family member, she relied on Erik, Nadir, and Meg equally as her emotional supports in different aspects of her life. To lose one of them now would devastate her. When Meg heard Christine's ragged breathing subside, she said, "Is Nadir with you?"

Christine walked back into the living room and fixed her eyes on Nadir, who was standing near the front door with his arms crossed. "Yes, he's right here."

"Okay, good. Does he know what Erik's doing?"

"Erik's gone after Madeleine."

The sound of Meg dropping the phone made Christine flinch away from the ear piece. A few seconds later, Meg was back. "He went alone?! Everyone knows Madeleine has a bunch of guys working for her, just for safety's sake."

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"Is something going down tonight? Do I need to be there? Because if she tries anything, I'll slice her open with a rusty razorblade, Christine."

Christine laughed once, but quickly covered her mouth. "You'd do that for me?"

"Oh yeah, definitely."

"You're a good friend." Christine said, "But you're crazy as shit. Now tell me where I can find Madeleine, Nadir's getting antsy."

In the end, Christine gave the phone to Nadir to get the directions, while she ran upstairs to get dress. She had no idea what she would do when she got to Madeleine. She had no firearm, since Erik still hadn't given her gun back, she couldn't call the police for obvious reasons, and her bluffing skills were horrible.

She returned downstairs to find Nadir hanging up after a few minutes and tossed the wireless phone onto the couch. "We're going."

As she walked with him to his car, she said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but I don't have a gun or anything. Erik took mine away."

Sighing heavily, Nadir unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat. As she climbed into the passenger seat beside him, he said, "Don't worry about it. I've got a spare in the trunk. You can use that. Plus, you know a little self-defense, right?"

She nodded and he smiled in reply as he started the engine. "Good. Leave the hard shooting to me. You just focus on defending yourself if someone comes at you."

"Time to wake up."

Erik gasped back into consciousness, lunging forward as if to sit up, but restraints at his arms, neck, and legs kept him in a lying position. His head spun as he struggled to remember where he was and why he was tied to an examination table.

Madeleine loomed over him with a scalpel in her hand and a wicked smile curling her lips. Her wild, black hair fell in waves over her eyes and down her shoulders, giving her a deranged look. In her other hand was a very familiar, white mask. "You're as ugly as ever."

"You're… not exactly… at your best either…" He managed though his voice was hoarse and quiet. A look of pure hatred crossed Madeleine's face before she could control herself and she gripped the handle of the scalpel as if she wanted to stab him with it repeatedly.

"You ruined my life," she hissed, lowering the blade toward the disfigured half of his face. "My perfect life. I could have had it all- but every time, you came along and ruined it. This face… if it were gone, everything would be fine, don't you think?"

The florescent light from the ceiling lamp glinted off the blade of the scalpel and for a moment, Erik felt a surge of uncontrollable panic overwhelm him. He struggled against the leather bindings until his skin bruised and chaffed, but they held. He didn't yell, but disgruntled groans escaped his throat as he worked against the restraints.

When his struggling subsided enough to just random trembles, Madeleine lowered the blade down to his mangled skin. The first incision welled with blood instantly and her intensely focused expression was interrupted with a wicked smile. "I forgot how much blood is in the human head."

She continued hacking at the skin, removing small pieces of the red, disfigured flesh. More blood dripped in steady streams down his face and neck. The biting, mind-numbing pain of it made him dizzy and nauseous. He briefly lost consciousness, and Madeleine took the opportunity to pause in her work to wrap a ragged towel around his neck. No reason to dirty her floors.

Nadir parked his car a few buildings away after driving around the block to scout the exterior of the bar. No one was standing guard outside the worn down, old building, but Christine did notice Erik's black car parked in the narrow alleyway on the side. She inhaled in a hiss and squinted to see better in the darkness. Leaning over the space between the driver and passenger seats, she asked Nadir quietly, "What was he THINKING parking that close to the bar?"

"No clue, actually. He's always been a little reckless. Good to know he's sticking to a style that suits him." Once they climbed out of the car, Nadir kept scanning their surroundings intently as he fished his spare gun out of the trunk. He loaded it and handed the small, semi-automatic pistol to her. She held it firmly, trying her best to keep it hidden against her shirt as they walked across the street. He grinned over his shoulder at her. "Man, Erik's gonna kill me for bringing you here."

"If he's not already dead, you mean," she grumbled, following behind him impatiently.

Nadir paused outside the front entrance of the bar and pressed himself against the door, one hand on the doorknob and the other holding his pistol up, ready to shoot. He motioned with the gun for Christine to do the same on the other side of the threshold. She quickly took her position, back to the brick wall near the door, safe from stray bullets.

Nadir's lips moved as if to count silently to three, then he shoved the door open and stepped inside, gun out instantly. He swept his arm through the air as he scanned the room for hidden assailants. Two men were dead at the bar, one still slumped in his seat. Walking cautiously to the back pool table, Nadir found four more victims. All had been shot.

Without putting away his gun, Nadir walked backwards toward the front door. He motioned to Christine with his free hand and she hurried inside, shutting the door softly behind her. Nadir craned his neck to whisper close to her, "Six men, killed by gunfire. Probably Erik's doing."

"Did you check that staircase yet?" Christine pointed to the dark, narrow stairway leading up to the second floor of the building.

"Stay here until I give you the signal."

"What's the signal?" she asked, confused. Exasperated, he practiced a beckoning gesture with his hand, as if he wanted her to come forward. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what he was doing. "Oh. Okay, got it. I'm ready."

Rolling his eyes, Nadir strode to the stairway and glanced up. There was a body sprawled upside down near the middles steps, its limbs twisted from the fall. A single bullet hole decorated the dead man's forehead, a trickle of blood running up into the man's hair. Nadir moved slowly and quietly up the stairs, nudging the body to the side as he went. He peeked into the second floor room and then swiftly darted back into hiding.

He beckoned Christine to the bottom of the stairs where he had retreated. She rushed over and he grabbed her by the shoulder, bracing against her heavily as he murmured, "He's up there."

The tension in her body dissolved instantly and she exhaled in relief. "He did it? What are we waiting for? Let's go-"

Nadir's strong grip on her shoulder kept her from dashing up the stairs. "No. He's not alone. Madeleine's got him tied up on some kind of… operating table. And she's got blood on her hands."

A cold stillness settled in her stomach and crept through her whole body. The pistol in her hand almost slipped from her fingers as the numbness stole over her. Nadir leaned close to lock gazes with her, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. He tapped his hand against her cheek lightly to get her attention. "Don't you start. We don't know how bad the situation is yet-"

"How can it be good? She's got him, Nadir, and if we don't do something-"

Nadir grabbed Christine by her upper arms and held tight. "Christine, if you don't get a handle on your emotions right now, you're going to do something stupid and get us all killed for sure."

He waited for her to take a breath before he continued, "We can do this. I just need you to stay in control of yourself. Act like a mafia boss. And do exactly what I tell you."

"What do you think you're doing?" a calm, female voice demanded from the top of the stairs. Madeleine spun around to find Christine climbing the last step. She hastily pressed the blade to Erik's throat, dancing around the table to keep distance between her and Christine.

"Put your hands up," Madeleine ordered angrily. When Christine hesitated, Madeleine applied pressure to the scalpel and a blood welled up against the skin on Erik's neck. "Show me you have no weapons, or I'll sever his Carotid artery."

Christine held up her hands, her borrowed pistol in her right and nothing in her left. Madeleine smiled knowingly and nodded her head toward the gun. "Put it on the ground slowly and kick it away."

Christine obeyed and the gun skittered across the room to the corner. Christine moved the in the opposite direction of the gun further into the room. Her eyes dropped to Erik's unconscious form before she met Madeleine's gaze. "How did you catch him?"

Madeleine watched Christine sidled along the wall, as if she was trying to stay as far away from her as possible. Smirking, she held up her tranq gun in her free hand. "Oh, he was easy to fool. A bit of "the old switcheroo", as it were."

Christine stepped back in surprise, fumbling as she stepped sideways and almost falling. "Is that-"

"You know, you're very dumb compared to your mother." Madeleine stated, eyeing her without expression. "I was expecting you to be… more impressive, what with the blood of both Gustave and Elizabeth running through your veins."

Madeleine aimed the tranquilizer gun at Christine. "Congratulations. You and Erik both defy biological explanation. I have no use for such a weak, little girl. Say hello to your mommy for me."

The gunshot exploded, echoing off the walls of the room and Christine flinched involuntarily as she dove to the floor. Madeleine dropped her gun to place her hand against her stomach where the bullet exited. She turned slowly to find Nadir standing behind her, near the stairs, his gun still aimed at her from the first shot.

Christine scrambled to her feet, the moment stretching on as the scalpel in Madeleine's hand cut into the flesh on Erik's neck. Faster, she needed to be faster-

Another shot sounded and this time the bullet tore through Madeline's skull, the impact sending her reeling backward. She fell to the floor lifeless, the blade still clutched in her fingers.

Heart ricocheting against her ribcage, Christine stumbled across the room to the operating table where Erik was pinned. His face was fully exposed, the disfigured left side bleeding from the gashes and cuts Madeleine had made with the scalpel. Christine unwound the rag from his neck to examine the damage. There was a cut on his neck, but it wasn't very deep.

"Christine?" Erik's voice was a blessing to her ears, even if his voice was hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

Nadir replied before Christine could find the words. "She's saving your ass, damsel-in-distress."

"I told you not to let her follow me." Erik snapped, but the effect was lost as his voice was weak from blood loss. "There's a knife in a holster on my thigh. Use it to cut me free."

Nadir took the knife and got to work on the leather straps while Christine dabbed at his face with the rag. Erik leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly as her cool skin caressed his face. Her smile wavered, almost turning into a sob, but she fought to keep her emotions under control. There would be plenty of time for that later.

She couldn't believe her hearing when he said in a weary voice without opening his eyes, "I'm glad you came."

Before she could respond, Nadir returned the knife to Erik's holster and announced loudly, "We're good to go! Come on, up you get-"

Erik struggled to sit up, but his muscles gave out and he flopped back onto the table with a groan, eyes glassy with fever. Christine reached around him and Nadir helped get him standing. They both supported him as he walked down the stairs, but his strength was dwindling fast. Christine spoke as she grimaced under half the weight of Erik, "Nadir, he can't drive like this. How are we going to get his car out of here?"

"You wouldn't happen to know stick, would ya?" Nadir grunted, his hold on Erik slipping as they led him to the entrance of the bar. Christine shot him an irritated look and he grumbled, "Didn't think so. My keys are in my left, butt pocket. You drive my car back to your house, I'll take Erik and his ancient automobile and meet you there."

Christine fished the car keys out of his pocket as Nadir did the same with Erik. They reached the entrance and Nadir kicked open the door only to come face to face with Raoul and his gun. "Freeze! Put your hands up!"

Nadir and Christine exchanged looks over Erik's head as they continued to hold him upright. Raoul held his gun even tighter as he pointed it at Erik. "I said, put your hands up, all of you!"

"Raoul, what are you doing?" Christine asked, exasperated. "Can't you see we're a little busy?"

"Christine, this is for your own good. Now, let him go and come over here." Raoul said, his gun still aimed at Nadir and Erik.

"I will not!" She said, standing up straight, even though her back hurt from helping to lug around a 38 year old, semi-conscious man. "If you're going to arrest my friends, then you'll have to take me too. And trust me, my lawyers won't make it easy on you."

"See, this is what happens when you trust a cop, Christine," Nadir said, glaring at Raoul angrily. "Wait until I tell Firmin. See how he likes having a two-faced cop as an underling. I'm sure he'll have plenty to say about that."

"You stay right there! Don't move!" Raoul ordered before looking at Christine. "Please, I don't want you to have to go through this. You aren't a bad person. Come with me. I'll tell the other officers that you were my informant-"

"Don't you dare lie for me, Raoul." Christine snapped. "These are my friends. I've already made my choice. Accept it. I know I have."

"We were friends once," he pleaded, his voice rife with emotion as he held his gun trained on Erik. "Don't make me do this to you."

Christine stepped forward, releasing Erik momentarily. Nadir struggled to compensate for the lost support as Christine reached her hands out slowly to Raoul, careful not to frighten him into attacking. She doubted he could ever shoot her. He let her hand brush against his face and she looked into his eyes. "I'm not making you do anything. This is your choice. Do what you have to."

She moved so suddenly, he was unprepared to retaliate. Her other arm slammed up into his elbow causing him to drop his gun. While he was recovering from his shock, she wrapped one leg around his ankles and shoved him hard with both hands. He fell to the ground, unable to regain his balance and she jumped out of the way, hurrying to retrieve his fallen gun.

Raoul stared up at her from his spot on the pavement as she pointed the gun directly at him. "However, don't expect us to wait around while you call for back-up. Honestly, did you think I wouldn't notice you were alone out here? Geez, everyone's sloppy tonight."

"Must be something in the water," Nadir grunted, shifting his hold on Erik, whose head was lolling on his neck. Christine nodded to Nadir, and he sidestepped Raoul on his way toward Erik's car parked around the corner.

Once they were out of sight, Christine smiled down at Raoul. "Now, let's see. Am I going to have to shoot both your feet to keep you from chasing me? Or are you going to roll over like a good boy?"

She motioned with the gun as she ordered, "Face down on the ground, forehead to the concrete. I'm taking your gun and if I see you getting up before I'm in my car, I will shoot you."

He obeyed, begrudgingly and she walked toward Nadir's car down the street, glancing over her shoulder every few steps to check on him. Once she was safely in the driver's seat, her hands started trembling so violently she had trouble getting the key in the ignition. It wasn't until she was halfway home that she remembered she was still clutching onto Raoul's gun like a life-line.

"I don't see why you're making me do this," Erik grumbled as Christine tugged him across the empty cemetery a week later. It had rained heavily all that day and the grass was slippery from it. The sky overhead was gray and cloudy, but it seemed that the worst of the rain had already passed, allowing them to visit the graves without getting soaked.

"It's the least we can do. I mean, we did skip the funeral." Christine raised her eyebrow at him as she continued to walk in front of him, hand wrapped around his tightly to keep him from bolting back to the car. He was wearing his form-fitting, leather gloves, so she couldn't feel the temperature of his skin, but one look at his face told her he was just as healthy and irritable as ever. He had gauze and bandages completely covering the half of his face that Madeleine had injured, so he was maskless until it was healed.

"Come on, I think the headstone's around here somewhere-"

"Christine, are you listening to me?" Erik sighed, knowing full well she was ignoring him. "This is like spitting on Madeleine's memory. She'd hate it if she knew we were doing this."

"Well, it's a good thing she's dead then, right? Ah hah, found it!" Christine let go of his hand to loop her arm through his and propel them both toward an imposing, black marble tombstone. Roses and doves were carved in relief onto the shiny, black surface. The flowing script read simply: "Madeleine, full of life" at the top of the stone. "It doesn't say anything about her being a mother or anything."

Erik shrugged, putting his hands in his overcoat pockets as he stared down at the grave. There were no flowers near her headstone. As he stood stiffly, Christine knelt and placed the single, white rose she'd brought with her. She straightened to stand at his side, wrapping her arms around herself. They gazed in silence at the dead woman's memorial until Erik finally spoke. "Nadir told me you were very skilled at getting me to safety."

Christine glanced at him sidelong to find he was staring straight at the tombstone, the muscles in his neck strained under the skin. She grinned as she brushed the windblown hair from her face. "I think that's the sorriest thank you I've ever received."

His serious expression remained steady as he turned to her. "Why didn't you just stay home, safe with Nadir? The thought of me putting you in danger…"

"Shut up," she said, irritated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she reached out to grab his tie, jerked it until he was eyelevel with her. "Now you know how I feel asking you to go out and put yourself in danger just to do a hit for me."

"That's my job-"

"Yeah, I know that." She let go of his tie abruptly. "Doesn't make it any easier when you're in danger. So, just give me this one."

She fiddled with his collar and tie, trying to straighten it back into place and avoid looking him in the eyes. "Besides, you'll probably have to safe me a few more times before we're dead. I figure, maybe it can be a back and forth thing. You save me, I'll save you, that sort of-"

She felt his fingers thread through her hair and he angled her head until she was looking up at him. His eyes were just as dark as the black marble of the headstone as he gazed at her with an expression of relief and love. His lips found hers softly, stemming her nervous flow of words with a desperate kiss. How did he ever live without this? She was as necessary to him as water, blood, air…

When Christine pulled back, panting for breath, she clung onto his heavy overcoat to steady herself. She struggled to grasp onto a thought, her brain swarming with emotion. "We should really… go back… Nadir waiting… in car…"

With his free hand, Erik cupped the side of her face, his thumb caressing her bottom lip idly. With a lopsided smile, he leaned in for another kiss, murmuring, "It's just Nadir. He can wait."

She really couldn't argue with that.


End file.
